Little speckles of her fall away,
Day by day, year by year.
The little speckles of living light,
That break away as the spirit fades.

Here now is the middle light,
All that is left of her twinkling self.
The before light was much brighter.
What restores the sparkle?

She knows how it faded and why it wanes.
She knows too many dreams given up.
She knows too many disappointments.
She knows nothing of retrieving her light.
Do you?