Slowly down the pavement with the aid of a walking frame she shuffles on yard by yard
For a frail octogenarian life can be so hard
The sparrows are chirping in the Winter sunshine
If I reach her age her lot well may be mine.
Her husband deceased one who lives on her own
And her better days she has obviously known
Her children and their families from her do live far away
Life chooses our destiny despite what some do say.
Such a nice old lady free of conceit and guile
With the warmth of joy in her beautiful smile
Her best days in life to the forever gone
But for as long as she can live she wants to live on.
Eighty five years of living has left her bent and gray
Her's may be our lot in a not distant day
In the Winter sunshine she shuffles down the street
With a smile and a hello to everyone she does meet.