All Things Runnable

The night is grey and feeble
Just like her — it’s much too late
Just like her — she looks into the mirror
The little wrinkles are not sitting well on her
Too pale, too plump — she thinks and cries
But just a little — just a little
A little eye shadow
And some kajal
Slightly accented lips
But just a little
Then a glass of wine — or two
That should do the trick
Because restlessness is spreading
She knows that — all too often
The skirl of the bell — rude awakening
But she is paralyzed
Nerves are tearing apart
Her mouth is dry — breathless silence
Hear heart skips a beat
Once she was prettier
Once she was so strong
How could that happen?
All things runnable — she thought
All things runnable
She cannot
Oh, she can’t