There was a kind old lady
who lived alone in a little house.
As a kid, I stopped by once,
to admire the flowers
and the fruit trees that grew abundantly
in her yard.
She would talk sometimes,
about her late husband, and of their love.
of the children that they raised,
and how they moved away.
She wasn’t bitter, because she had her memories
of the things she and her husband shared.
The trees they planted
had branches that held bird feeders
and a set of chimes
he made for her.
This was a long time ago
she is gone now
the house falling down,
the paint faded.
But the tree still stands
and the music from the chimes
takes me back to a better time
in my memories
