One woman from Australia told me about an Aunt of hers' in the UK who was very elderly and thought she had no family. Then her relatives from Australia found her ... it inspired me to write this ...
Counting pounds
Pennies played
Life's bills still unpaid
81, 82, 83 ...
With nothing
But the moths from her purse
To keep her company
Her mind's eye wanders
To sun cut skies
How time flies
Now others watch
Their loved ones play
Their children laughing
But not she ...
81, 82, 83
Alone, apart
A longing lost
Within her heart
No postcards from
Dream like climes
Now falling on harder times
The morning mist monotomous
Cutting through her day
Then, just when
Her wishes fade to nothing
Like the colours of the sun
The clouds lift ...
And one by one
Lost actors
Dance upon her stage
She knows them not, and yet
She has known them always
For their eyes
Are her eyes
They share the same blood
Heart full
They dance and sing
And bring down under
To her front door
Alone no more
Her heart melodic
With the riches
That her purse ignores
She bathes her last years
In the oppulence of kinship
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