The Red House
How soon our children
say good-bye.
Comes time for flight,
new wings to try.
Pear blossoms fallen
weaned by the tree
Tracers for fruit,
now mourned by the bee.
Grandma and Grandpa
now living alone
Children, and seedling
packed, shipped and gone.
Fairing like pollen
by the wind blown.
Gone all our offspring,
all grandkids gone.
From cradle to graveyard
earth replenished indeed,
Flaunting its seasons
their blossom and seed.
Believe yet in something,
roots pulled from our dream.
Now childless years passed
like a cloud from the scene.
Fields are wide open
what was now has been,
Fragrance and blossoms
all hewn by The King.
Picking wild flowers,
all yours, for the take.
No one like Grandma...
two-pence for her cake.
by Eleazar Cirilo, n.d.
All works here, Copyright © Lotus D. Cirilo, 1999
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