She sits in thoughtful silence, chin in hand,
That old blue skirt hem covers her thin knees.
Gazing west, the sunset’s  silvery bands
Lengthening shadows from the maple trees.
The porch needs paint; its steps are all adroop,
The lawn is overgrown with Queen Anne’s lace.
The whole world passes by her front porch stoop.
She marvels at her life’s a-quick’ning pace:
What have I done and where has it all led?
My husband is long gone, my children, too.
Her rounded shoulders and her bowing head,
On furrowed brow plain weariness accrued.
So, lost in thought, she’ll slowly disappear
In mem’ries of her past, both far and near.

 

Marie Davids is retired, but works for a company that provides care in a community for adults with developmental disabilities in Sarasota Florida. She now resides in Ferndale, Michigan. 

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