The Child I Was

The child I was, so many years ago,
Too young to understand my loneliness
Or know that sorrow as well as joy
Are commonplace in life.

That a widowed mother left alone
Does not have time or strength
To reassure and nurture one small child
While taking on sole burden of raising all her brood.

I did not know it then
But now do certainly believe
That some angelic presence led the way
Into the sanctum of a nearby woods.

Within that soothing, peaceful space,
I could be alone yet not alone,
There, through Nature's healing grace,
I found myself.

The trees became my friends.
Watched over, I played beneath them,
Collecting spongy, emerald moss
For a velvet carpet, grand and soft.

In that enchanting glade I found
A boulder like a great white table
The perfect place where I was able
To host my friends who gathered round.

by Rose M. Griffin

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