This was my first-ever published poem – it was in the Castlemaine High School magazine in 1969! I was 13…going on 90…
In winter rain is falling, days are dull,
(I care not for the life I led in other days),
But in the winter’s drab and dreary nights,
I sit in long forgotten corners, in long past ways.
In houses that have gone, with men who’ve died,
With children who are married, dead or gone,
I spend my weary winters by the hearth,
With well loved pets and friends, though I’m alone.
In spring I look upon a grandchild fair,
On flowers, paddocks, orchards, bright with life,
Far from the old forsaken ways and times
Of winter dark and drabness, dreams and strife.
When hills are green and trees are blooming,
On sunny porches, in the country calm,
With roses on the table, sweetly scented,
The beauty of the present as a balm.
In summer I am weary, tired of life.
Hot, and feeling sick of time.
Though Christmas comes, it’s almost lost it’s meaning
In days when life and living seem a crime.
When temperatures soar above my thinking,
I can only think of days long past;
The grandchildren who brightly clamour round me,
Are friends from other days I’ve found at last.
In autumn when the leaves are turning
To a world of glory, red and gold,
Although the one’s I loved are all forgotten
I like to just forget that I am old.
I trim the ancient, trailing gold wisteria,
Knit away the time in my old chair,
Dust the mantle in mu tiny kitchen,
Remember friends – and think that they are there.