She is all alone, her husband dead and gone
Her only son, years before, shot down by a gun
Though sombre shadows now darken her path
Still there is a rare glow in her eyes
When she sees young lovers’ hands clasp and fingers twine
She happily recalls the time when she was with him
She lived a life of love coloured in enduring tints
And on looking back, she has no cause for remorse
Though her spine is now bent and unable to straighten itself
Still there is a rare glow in her eyes
She often happily recounts her youth’s glitter and glow
That takes her back to life’s bygone splendour
She lived content, fulfilling her tasks as wife and mother
Now she is like a garment no longer fit to wear
And will soon be reaped by the scythe of fate
Still there is a rare glow in her eyes
Now that her days are numbered,
Before her, there is the sole image of a beauteous form;
The shining face of God waiting to receive her
This aged pilgrim focuses only on that goal in view
To the grave she quickly treads, never to return
And there is a rare glow in her eyes