Journey's End

She looked at me with eyes of faded blue
She seemed, that day, so very small and frail,
Rocking there gently while the shadows grew,
Like some quaint figure from an old, old tale.
Her thin voice quavered faintly as she said
"Of course the children want me. I don't know
I may visit my Cousin Sue instead
I'm not just sure this summer where I'll go."
She watched me anxiously. I understood
The dim, unspoken longing in her heart
For reassurance. Oh, the children would
Be kind-but she no longer had a part
In other lives. They didn't need her now,
They had their patterns, went their separate ways;
And there was only left for her, somehow,
Warmth from the embers of her yesterdays.

ALBERTA CUSHMAN.