Dark Winter

The old woman sits all alone,
gazing outside her kitchen window.
She contemplates her distant past,
then considers her shrouded future.
How did I get here? She ponders.

Her parents were her heroes,
part of the Greatest Generation.
They had triumphed over the Depression
and the evil horrors of World War II.
Their scars were their hidden mementos.

Her childhood had been so golden,
born of the promises of new horizons:
filled with carefree, lazy, hazy sunny days
of simple childish pleasures, but now
Dark Winter would soon be beckoning her.

She had come of age in the sixties,
an elusive time of revolutionary change.  
Her mementos from that forgotten era
were stashed away in her bedroom closet:
Beatle albums and snapshots of her teen self.

Now she plays her favorite song, Yesterday,
Paul McCartney’s ballad of poignant memories.
She sits in her rocking chair, wondering where
all her classmates have been during their lives.
Where are all my friends now? She ponders.

The old woman gazes at her reflection
in the mirror on the wall above her sofa.
She hardly recognizes herself, and then
she views her weight loss and more wrinkles.
Her beauty has faded, concealed behind a façade.

Golden leaves are falling outside the window.
She wonders when Dark Winter will come for her.
She has no defenses against His ferocious attacks.
Both her food and fuel will soon be rationed,
like they were for her valiant parents so long ago.

Will I be as brave as they were? she asks herself.
She wonders if she will celebrate her 80th birthday.
Perhaps I will! She says aloud to convince herself.
She has triumphed over Covid-19, against all odds.
And now, Dark Winter comes for her like a lover.

She remembers writing an essay once, so long ago, on
the famous poem: Because I Could Not Stop for Death.
Perhaps her Dark Winter would be kindly to her too,
since Emily’s suitor had come for her in his carriage.
Like Emily, her youthful spirit would embrace eternity.