Childlessness Poem by James McLain

How long as it was, I did not ask why she waited,
each heart beat away I can't say.
Where she came from a field full of grass,
trees that are not cut or being wet dry rotted.
Bushes hold buds that why, go unpicked?
A daughter needs a father like night follows day.

Long the road I did not go down, by the river
sits a path by most hardly travelled.
Where ever I look I see my face in a mirror,
that I hung on the wall.
About this a story I read from time to time.
Here I can sit and not be alone.