This Kind Old Woman

The vines stretched up the sides of her house from behind the hedges, neatly trimmed she'd been on that corner a long, long time six decades before her eyesight dimmed The concrete steps through puddingstone walls that one would climb to reach her door if they could speak, the tales they'd tell such lovely things they kept in store The many times that I would visit she always had cookies on a plate Exactly when I can't remember but I was seven, or maybe eight In winter time, her stairs and walk I'd shovel out, sometimes with friends I never thought at that tender age that times like those would ever end Four decades since those days have passed and I finally found the words to say this kind old woman mattered to me this kind old woman who's gone away