The Watcher

She always leaned to watch for us

Anxious if we were late,

In winter by the window,

In summer by the gate.

And though we mocked her tenderly

Who had such foolish care,

The long way home would seem more safe,

Because she waited there.

Her thoughts were all so full of us,

She never could forget,

And so I think that where she is

She must be watching yet.

Waiting ‘til we come home to her

Anxious if we are late

Watching from Heaven’s window

Leaning from Heaven’s gate.

by Margaret Widdemer

www.bespokememorialcrards.com