Shuffling across a room
an old lady stops to say good-bye
then into the kitchen to get her broom
her heart sunken and dry.
She's not sure what happened to her life
as the tears dwindle down her face
it's the memories of being someone's wife,
all evidence vansihed without a trace.
Her days are busy from dawn till dusk
but closing the door as night falls
the house silent, the smell of musk,
in her mind she remembers the calls.
Calls of five children in the hall,
a masculine voice inquiring...
"were you out shopping at the mall?"
As she nestles on the old couch-retiring.
The sounds of all those voices falling,
that filled her home, once called her nest;
her soul then torn apart recalling
the flood of memories blessed.
If only there was just one to say,
"I missed you honey"
at the end of the day-
I wouldn't call my life lonely today.
Almost all our misfortunes in life come from the wrong notions we have about the things that happen to us.