The Winter Of December

She sits in an armchair,
Breathing in old air.
She sits, wishing she had a dime,
remembering when her happiness was all time.
Her armchair is ripped,
On cold tea she now sips.
Wishing back her days, 
But her mind is led astray.
A simpler time to which she goes,
A time where she had a coloured rose.
As now everything is black and white,
And down is up and left is right.
Her mind is caged,
So her thoughts are delayed.
She tries her best,
As it's not long till she rests.
The clock ticks down,
Her mind is completely fogged now.
She's not ready yet,
But her consciousness begins to whet.
It's time to leave,
But her mind and that memory would not cleave.
In a flash she remembers,
So she closes her eyes, in the winter of December.