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Yester Years
by Belinda van Rensburg

It is late; the world's abed
Only her window's glowing red;
She sits and stares into the flames
Recalling long lost friends' names.

Her hands are gnarled; hair silver gray;
Folks think she has not much to say -
They know not of her dreams and fears;
Her memories of yester years.

Locked deep down within her heart
Are those she has loved in the past;
Dearest ones long dead and gone,
Things that they have said and done.

Her fingers stroke her paisley wrap
Covering her legs and lap
As she travels back in time
To a day filled with sunshine.

It is the twentieth of May
And she's eight years old today;
Her family and friends have come
To celebrate and have some fun.

She's wearing her new sailor dress,
Touching gifts; trying to guess
What treasures could be hid inside;
Her eyes are bright; her smile is wide.

Her great-aunt Lena's gift could be
a book about pirates at sea;
From Uncle Sam a round beach ball;
from Mom and Dad a puppy small.

A Shirley Temple doll she'd like
As a gift from uncle Mike,
But what she would like most of all
Is a pony in a stall.

The sunshine fades; it's a cold morn -
In the distance brews a storm;
A war is being waged out there
And suffering is everywhere.

The sun's come out; love's in the air -
She's eighteen and without a care;
Tomorrow is her wedding day;
'I do' is what they both will say.

In her arms her pride and joy
And she dangles him a toy.
Dimpled cheeks; cherubic face
Surrounded by a cap of lace.

One memory fades; another comes -
One by one she thinks and longs
For her sweetheart, strong and tall
And her loved ones, gone now; all.

The fire in the grate burns low
And she knows it's time to go
To a place better than here;
Void of loneliness and fear.

Her hands stop moving on her lap;
She seems at peace; taking a nap,
But if the truth were to be told:
She's young again; no longer old.


This Christian poem may be used within Christian ministries for any non-profit purpose without requesting permission.
Please remember to mention the author of this poem when using.

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