Oft, she wondered where it went to —
Naive tender girlish fun —
Days of sweetness filled her life then
Now those days are over. Done.

Soft, at night, she years the rumble
Of the heater – or the past —
Memories float in like bubbles
But the feelings do not last —

There’s a mother’s heart that’s beating
Strongly still within her breast:
Only broken shells of memory
Here within this
Vacant

Nest