Foolish old lady forgot her age,
Though she knows that she's not young.
But no longer does she even care.
Her final song's been sung.
She hears the banter of those younger,
She used to join in.
Now, she does not offer,
She sits with lips fixed grim.
Would she like her window opened,
Or her chair moved over there?
No one bothers now to ask her,
She used to love the morning air.
She sits and stares out at the sky,
What do you think she sees?
She'll never tell, for no one asks,
Does she see a bird that's free?
I think a hug, she has not had,
For a very long, long time.
Or a shoulder for a pillow,
Or a caress of any kind.
Who cares? Who smiles at her?
Who has time for that?
How knotted up inside she is,
She aches for human contact.
Her older relatives are gone,
The younger ones won't come.
They hardly even know her,
They thinks she's tiresome.
Each day's the same as the day before,
The nights are long and worse.
No wonder she's inside herself,
With no desire to converse.
Oh, she has many conversations,
Taking place within her head.
Constant dialogue's going on,
But you'll never know what's said.
It's too late now; you can't get in,
But you shut her out first.
Not that you really care, of course,
But that you ask does seem perverse.
The final asset left is love,
And when that's been removed.
The last act has been performed,
Which seals a person in a tomb.
This lady now is sealed within,
Only one way, she'll escape.
When Jesus, with eternal love.
Her precious soul will take.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Used with Permission
All Rights Reserved By Author
"Summer Of '42"
Sequenced by Don Carroll
The MIDI Studio Consortium