Time Had A Way Of Moulding People

Cassandra Wondered At The Mind's Cruel Ability To Toss Up Flecks Of The Past. Why, As She Neared Her Life's End, Her Grandmother's Head Should Ring With The Voices Of People Long Since Gone. Was It Always This Way? Did Those With Passage Booked On Death's Silent Ship Always Scan The Dock For Faces Of The Long-departed?

A Twinge At The Edge Of Her Lips And She Continued, The Soft, Slow Lilt Of Recitation: "ancient Walls That Sing The Distant Hours.

The Girl In The Mirror Caught My Eye Briefly...it Is An Uncanny Feeling, That Rare Occasion When One Catches A Glimpse Of Oneself In Repose. An Unguarded Moment, Stripped Of Artifice, When One Forgets To Fool Even Oneself.

She Hadn't Wanted To Be Loved Carefully, Only Well.

She Was The Breeze On A Summer's Day, The First Drops Of Rain When The Earth Was Parched, Light From The Evening Star.