Disclaimer: The poem’s mine, no one else’s. And don’t you steal it, either.

Author’s Note: I guess this fits into the neighborhood myth of the evil old lady who lives in an ugly mansion/house who’s despised by [nearly . . .] everyone in the neighborhood and chases anyone out with a cranky yell or her cat but actually turns out that way because she’s so lonely. *sigh* And this was meant to be depressing.

In a white wicker chair

near the warm fireplace

not taking notice of the loud gleeful shouts of children playing

outside

an old lady sits

gently rocking back and forth in her chair,

memories running though her mind

like a slow sad harp song

of days long gone and old

The fire crackles merrily

every now and then creating a tiny spark

a flash of life

which echoes

in the old lady’s eyes.

The grandfather clock near the fireplace

loudly chimes one,

the ding echoing, vibrating throughout the house

All’s quiet and dark, save for the chime of the grandfather clock

and the flames dancing lively in the fireplace

The loud shouts of children playing now fading away slowly

and Lady Belle, the old lady’s cat, meowing softly

In a white wicker chair

near the warm fireplace

an old lady sits.