Monday, 5 August 2013


From my rocking chair, now frail, old & grey,
I wend my journey; now go on my wary way,
I go searching for that person that I call me,      
But I´m seeking the person who I used to be.

I am looking for my soul in its original form,
Over fields & mountains where the sky is torn,
Paths, roads & byways, of my lingering long life,
Through the child, maid, mother & faithful wife.

Where´s she gone, the one who gave all her best?
To parents, husband & those babes at her breast,
Where is that person, she once thought she knew?
They all dipped & sipped from her & away they flew.

Raised, worked, loved, given of herself & all she had,
Loving all in her wake & she never dared to be bad,
By life & love, she felt beaten, very tired & whipped,
Left now alone, frail & of her identity sorely stripped.

Deep within herself & within the deep, dead of night,
She found the path she knew, the one that was right,
Into the arms of Angels, she walked her way back home,
Knowing that life was a journey she had travelled alone.

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