She is of an age,
from long, long ago;
where life was simple,
and you reap what you sow.
Where neighbours were family,
and family were friends;
and good wishes for health,
were what everyone sends.
She’s muddled and agile,
not liking this time;
where everyone’s no one,
and you don’t have a dime.
She closes her eyes,
and drifts off to dreams;
of times that were harder,
but, yet better it seems.
She dreams of the days,
she danced as a girl;
and laughed and was carefree,
and her hair still had a curl.
She’s smiling as she’s dreaming,
there’s such a glow on her face;
finally no longer sad or in pain,
she quietly moves on from this place.
Her family is saddened,
and they all shed a tear;
they know heaven has gained,
another angel this year.
© Leslie C Dobson