The bench is near where children play
And where she sits to dream and muse.
She knows her life will shortly fade—
A doleful thought she can't refuse.
Her wrinkled skin declares her age,
And her eyes, alive years ago
When young and lustrous in their shine,
Now seem like dying embers' glow.
Her hair is dull, a tangled gray,
And lifeless in the twilight breeze.
She smiles, recalling years ago
When she could walk with graceful ease.
The countless memories she's stored
Begin to flood her waning mind.
Oh, how she longs for youth once more—
The days when life was fun and kind.
The children's songs and gleeful shrieks
Arrest her ears and misty eyes.
She sees in them the days she lived—
The years she wants to eulogize.
As she observes the children play,
The clouds announce an evening rain.
She faintly smiles, then shuts her eyes
And dreams of being a child again.