Beneath her glasses bent and scuffed
a girlish gleam was caught
She boasted on the days gone by
leaving names of whom she'd taught
Her life had been a single journey
she was the youngest child
"I am a happy old maid" she sung
her traveling days were wild
With hands of rippled tenderness
folded softly on her dress
A melody escaped her lips
her faith can never rest
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I see a lot of myself in this one, Julie :)
ReplyDeleteAnd I enjoyed the flow of the poem,
wishes,
devika
Thank you Devika..........being with senior citizens gives me inspiration..:)
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