She rocks-

hands folded in her lap.

Head bowed-

in quiet restful nap.

She dreams-

of love

and days of yore

of children

playing on the floor

of husband

strong and true and tall

of simple cottage

quaint and small, where

warmth and love enveloped all.

She knows-

they’re waiting for her there-

She smiles-

and stills the rocking of her chair.

May B. Winkel © 1996