Insights of an Old Lady

Sometimes I think I'm getting old;
I think that I've left too many good moments behind.
I imagine myself as an old lady without a puppy;
someone who goes alone to a coffee shop;
dressed in brown with a purple hat with a red flower on it;
someone who doesn't care anymore about matching colors or getting wrinkles on her face.
I imagine the reflection of an old lady in the mirror,
white, heavy hair, pale face, deep green eyes that have seen so much,
so much they will never see again.
An old lady with an old heart that has felt too much, almost more than it could handle.
Wrinkled hands. Wrinkled right hand that has written too much nonsense.
Full lips that haven't said the right words.
And she feels for having no more time now for re dreaming her dreams.
She has barely time to keep the old dreams, or get a puppy,
or change the old flower on her purple hat.
She drinks her last sip of Brazilian coffee--remembers that place, Brazil,
and writes her last word, in Portuguese: Saudade.