On that bright morning, light,
On her side she lay,
This positioned she assumed,
Her favourite at night.
The day brings such hate,
Why do you long so great?
The fractal life you've lived
Is forever etched within;
Would you truly disguise your age
With the trappings of a younger face?
If this is true then may you find
All the youth you could desire,
And wear again the glass ceiling
Of painful pride and false joy.
Strip away your mantle of distinction
Garnered from sense, don't be coy,
I can only hope what is lost
Will be gained once more, with time.