A crumpled form: ancient yet wise eyes. Alone, she reminisced, rocking and humming to an old, forgotten song. Her head in her weathered, frail hands. Lips pursed as she hummed. The delicate yet deep, carved wrinkles telling her story of pain, love, joy and sorrow. She gazed in awe out of her window.
A calm, starry night coming to an end as the sunrise blazed an elixir of scarlets, vermilions and gold. The light cloud coverage dusted the sky and the rays hit one another, they exploded with glistening light. The beam of light cast a warm glow upon a wizened face.
She lifted her time-worn body up into a straight sitting position. As the rays pierced the blinds and bounced across the room, she slowly and warily stood. She shuffled across the room, a saddened look upon the mementos of her life, over the border.
The picture she now held was of a young man, in a smart suit and of a young woman in a pearly-white dress. A small tear rolled down her wizened cheek.
Next to the photos resting place, was an unopened letter, and a bullet shell. Above was a cross. She placed the photo back and shuffled back to her wooden chair, where she sat in solemn silence.