Eleanor is very old,
Today's her moving day,
Her sons have come to pack her things,
And move Eleanor away.
She sits and watches from the couch,
Her things are disappearing,
She does a crossword puzzle,
Though her eyes are dim and blearing.
This is a scary proposition,
So she occupies her mind,
And concentrates on other things,
Besides this moving time.
She will not let her boys know,
That she's torn up inside,
If only they would go away,
Or she could find some place to hide.
She loves them, though they're grown now,
They're big men with deep voices,
They make adult decisions now,
No more youthful choices.
They have homes and families of their own,
She doesn't quite fit in,
Though they love her and respect her,
And she's been invited in.
She doesn't think they understand,
They laugh too loud - too much,
Perhaps that is their way to hide,
Their way to cover up.
Everybody's nervous,
Both her sons make senseless jokes,
Her pencil stumbles in her puzzle,
On simple words, like "faith" and "hope."
Fragile looking - even frail,
She fell the other day,
That's what prompted both her sons,
To come - take her away.
Some forty years she's lived here,
That's a long, long time,
Long enough for births and deaths,
And life events of every kind.
She seems cheerful to her neighbors,
Who tease and laugh some more,
 All Academy Award contenders,
But ... the Oscar goes to Eleanor.
Good-bye, Eleanor, God's speed,
One day, we'll meet again
Part of my heart goes with you,
You will be missed, old friend.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright October 2002 ~ 2008


Index Page

Ginny's Heart Index

My thanks to Neat Solutions
for the sweet, little, old lady graphic used here.