The Lady Down the Lane
in the first crevice of light
as dawn flushed its skies
her frail fingers struggled
to pluck weeds from spring buds
that laid like a colorful quilt
on her once rolling green lawn
you could hear the creaks on wood
as she rocked on the weathered porch
watching for the children to walk by
as the school days finally ended
she'd speak to anyone that listened
her story was hapless but known by all
her loneliness was seen in the depth of her hazel eyes
no one ever turned down the jaunty invite
inside her antiquated home
where her fingers danced nimbly
across the piano as she sang them songs
she hid her loneliness and darkness of life
reserved her tears behind closed blinds at night
when the blinds remained unopened the children knew
and they flooded the funeral homes to say their goodbyes
march 20, 2020
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2020
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