I am back
As an old woman who has seen ten and eighty years
The same old scene stretching before my eyes.
I am walking
In the pines that once towered above us both.
I was young.
You carried me on your shoulder
I, the mere age of four.
You were strong then
And shared soft words.
The sunlight that filtered through the crown.
Hitting our faces.
It was smiling at us.
I spy flowers,
Pale and pink,
Bright against the dark earth and shining grass.
Your strong arms lift me from my perch
And set me gently on the ground.
I pick them
And we walk.
Your large strides have me running by your side
To keep up.
Your face shines bright, and your smile is brighter still,
As I show you the flowers as if they were the greatest treasure in the world.
But those days are gone.
You are gone
And I am still here.
I spy the flowers we used to pick.
My bones creak and my joints ache
As I sit amongst them.
The sun is bright and warm here
Though I feel nothing but cold.
I am ready to go.
Come for me,
Put me on your shoulder again.
Take me home.
No comments available ...