Mrs. Winters

Her hair was thin and curly
Her eyes, squinting
Crows feet had rested at their sides
The skin on her face had melted
And run down
Hanging off her chin
Her lips were small
Cracked
And the color of her skin had begun to fade
Blue and purple veins
Criss-crossed in her neck
Her arms were short
Her hands were wrinkled
She used to be taller
Her back was bowed out and she was bent over
Almost reaching the fetal position
She is ready to be reborn