A Great Age.byvrosej10©
Seven china cups and yellow petals
On the table cloth in the afternoon
She's alone waiting for the fair-haired boy
Who'd be fifty now if she remembered
The day he was born it rained like curtains
Ducks fly on the wall and an old clock ticks
This is the fifth day of hot amber light
Wasted sandwiches and her hopes burning
Still she will smile at empty doorways though
For there is no day on which she'll recall
What was today or even think of it.
This is a much loved poem of mine, for whom I could not find a home. It was written about a little old lady who lived near me, who was very kind to me when I was a child.