The Child I Was
The child I was, so many years ago,
by Rose M. Griffin
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.