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
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