Ancient Lace

I watched her Fragile Spirit tear, like ancient, sun-scorched lace
I remember tracing the battle-scars, across her weathered face
They reminded me of riverbeds, dried up remnants from the past
Meandering through dark corridors, of things that didn't last

Hidden in these caverns, were her youthful broken dreams
The pain of her lost beauty, still echoes from her screams
She crept toward the mirror soaked in Vodka enhanced hate
Her primal fears still haunt my dreams, but it's fifty years too late.

Too late to save my mother; too late to save myself
Feeling the pain of broken dreams, I took the Vodka off the shelf.
Now, as I creep toward my mirror, I see my mother's face'
I hear her screams reminding me, I'm just a remnant of ancient lace.

Another fragile spirit torn like, sun-scorched, ancient lace.