Travesties of Time

the train read, December yet, here it was, March. she looked around, frantic to see if others saw, or was this just her beating heart petrified, again? the time it takes to know the way teases. we think we have eternity and dance along without a song or prayer, how many know this tune? and yet we cry with baited lips struggling for that which we don't deserve without a plan in place or some degree of evidence, how can we really expect happiness with nothing more than empty itches for dreams? she turned back with weary eyes to look again to see, did that train really read winter when spring was where she believed? reaching inside her bag she felt for a mirrorjust to be sure, and when she raised it to her eyes, she screamed! who was this gray haired lady staring? she could have sworn she was still sixteen...