The Woman in the Rocker

 Reluctantly, I close my eyes.

Hearing the old woman’s sighs

It causes my soul to burn,

Because her back is always turned

To me

Cracking in her rocker for all of eternity.

Oh, she has such a pretty face.

She sits in silence with such grace.

Her hair is silver,

And it makes me shiver.

She obscured in a foggy blur,

some how, I wish I looked like her.

I would feel honored to resemble she,

But the rest of her I could never be.

She lives in a world so grim,

And it is all because of him.

She spends hours looking out the window’s glass

Wishing she could once again play on dewy grass.

When she was a child

She had a friend who was sweet and wild.

Given a doll from the little boy,

now she is constantly holding that toy.

She does nothing but grieve,

That chair she refuses to leave.

He played all day, and became quite ill,

And still

She is burdened by the past.

That Christmas was his last.

She had given him the sled

he wanted,

but by this she will always be haunted.

She still feels guilty her friend is dead.

She lost the boy to a case of the flu.

That day she lost her childhood too.

I wish she would go away,

But I see her every day.

I am her, she is me,

and I am that child she once was and now wants to be.