Jane’s diary


She sits by the porch, her face all worn

The winter breeze kissing those lips at dawn

Her wrinkled eyes, her crinkled nose

Some nights it’s a song, others a prose

Once there was the light of the moon           

His fingers strumming; she loved that tune

Loose change in their pockets; a dream house by the lake

Some things were about chance; some chances you make

Milk in the mornings; late night munches

Soon the kids grew up; started living by their own hunches

By his bed then she stood holding the vial

For the last act, there were only friends to dial

He passed in peace

She shook, trembled, fell, nothing was at ease

What came ahead, she didn’t oppose

Life’s simple

You need not much, just a purpose

Some seek god, some love or monies

Hers are mere memories

Not only those to cherish; but those yet to be made


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