Sometimes There Is A Last Poem by Dorothy Good

Sometimes…There is a Last
Usually…we don’t realize
As through this life we go…
We do our little daily tasks,
The years just onward roll.
So here we gather, reminisce,
We’re thinking of the past,
How often do we stop and say..
Sometimes…there is a last.
Sometimes…the wave, the smile, the tear,
We’ll never see again,
And when it’s gone, its memory
Has left us with its stain.
When was the last time that you rocked
Those little ones to sleep?
When was the last time that you knelt
And prayed the Lord to Keep?
When was the last time on my knee?
When that last story read?
When that last little chorus sung?
Last tucked them into bed?
When was the last at Grosspa’s hoose,
The Plymouth in the g’rage,
The tvabach in the oven
Grossma opening chiosha jars.
When was the last you melted your soles
That great big, hot floor furnace?
When was the prayer, the last he prayed?
In tones so very earnest?
When was the last time up the walk
By Grossma’s old-fashioned petunia patch?
So sweet they smelled,
I ask myself, when was the last?
Somehow I can’t remember.
And that is how life is
My children all are grown and gone,
And never can call back the years