Her face is setting like the sun beauty, slowly disappearing as each minute fades.
The circles around her eyes dance around them like the little hand on a clock enamored with age
Each wrinkle becoming diaphanous with every laugh, cry and glib.
Only her eyes stayed ethereal, effulgence and solicitously resplendent with every stare.
If only she could see her veracity beauty.
All she sees is the fractious timeline of each blemish, dark mark and scars of her own temerity