Now my darling are you grieving
over golden dreams receding,
Are the distant pastures greener as they say?
Do you think of those you’re missing,
are your gentle lips not kissing,
Do you write your special secrets every day?
Are you ever feeling lonely
for the one who loved you only,
The one who once your stolid heart did sway?
As you wake each morn from slumber,
each time worn line you’ll number,
Can you see the silken curls growing grey?
In the evening by the fire
does your minds’ eye ever tire
Of roving where the distant memories lay?
As these memories do entreat you
does a sullen tear now greet you,
Or does cold conscience keep them yet at bay?
Does your hardened heart grow softer
as you recollect the laughter
Of hearts and souls that sang and once were gay?
Or does summer sun now find you
with your youthful hue behind you,
And does your silent mirror friend betray?
How do you greet the morrow
with its gladness and its sorrow,
With its smile a twisted frown that you portray?
Does your barren breast now mourn you
for the children who now scorn you;
Did you ever think it had to end this way?
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.