There stood a house, on Eleventh
Street,
That I frequently drove by.
Sometimes, a little old lady
Would catch my eye.
She’d be there, watering her
yard,
And not to waste a drop!
But, everything was watered and
green
Before she would stop.
There was a vine of ivy on
The east side of the house ~
Some elms that made it through
the drought,
Some spreaders on the south.
One day, I noticed dryness, for
The blades of grass were thin.
Something had happened and I
wished
To see it green, again.
...I used to have a big yard,
Where the grass was lush and
green;
Pots of pretty flowers ~
A big swing in between.
But, like the house on Eleventh
Street,
My blades are thin and dry;
And no one comes to do the work.
I watch it 'til it dies.
I don’t expect the world to
Understand my growing old.
They’re just like me. Perhaps
they’ll see,
As I did ~ long ago.
Joan Clifton Costner
Copyrighted. All rights
reserved.
The Library
All pages are listed in
the Library.
Midi by :
Margi Harrell
Copyrighted.
Used with permission.
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