She looks at her hands, calloused and scarred,
Rough from the work of a life that's been hard.
She feels of her hair, now thinning and gray,
And her mind wanders back to a long ago day.
She wishes that things were different somehow,
But the past can't be changed by things we do now.
So she thinks of her youth, and the prime of her years,
Before there were heartaches, before there were tears.
And she cries for all the time that has passed,