She sits alone in window chair
And watches children play,
The sun shines on her silver hair
She leans on cover grey.
A weary smile on crinkled face
Remembers times gone by,
Recalls her tree house hiding place
When playmates made her cry.
Then softly hears her Mother call
While seeking hiding child
Her Mother standing straight and tall
With manner calm and mild.
She now remembers handsome boy
Who captured Lizzie’s heart,
And she then married lover coy,
She’d loved him from the start.
The painful sight of children now
Reminds her of her own,
She pauses to reflect on how
Those treasured years had flown.
With memories of her husband still,
He gone for many years,
These daily clear reminders ‘oft
Produce her nightly tears.
The children gone now every one
Are scattered round the globe,
She thinks of families just begun
And feels nostalgia’s probe.
She sees them now infrequently,
Their visits to her room
Responding to her unvoiced plea
With laughter chase her gloom.
But now she turns back with a sigh
Why watch the children play?
What merit are these days gone by?
Another lonely day!
“© Ian Grice 2017 all rights reserved”