THE LAUGHTER OF CHILDREN

It that the laughter of children or the rustle of the leaves?
Can you hear voices or is it the whispering of the breeze?
Is that someone tapping at my door or that old branch banging
On the upstairs winder pane, no one to me ever coming?

Is that footsteps or my imagination playing tricks once more?
Do you know how many times I wander to my front door?
One of these good days some friendly face I will see,
Or even the old mailman bringing something just for me..

Listen there goes the telephone, wrong number once again,
But at least better than nothing at all, it eases the pain
Of always being alone, in silence, just music playing,
That voice on the telephone, I wish it to me they were calling.

That was footsteps on my path, and a knock at my door,
Yet they were people I did not know, never seen before,
Their car had broken down just about a mile away,
They wondered if close by was a place they could stay.

I fed them, they stayed the night and I sent them on their way
With home made bread and lots of cookies to last many a day,
Now it is the laughter of children, not just the rustle of leaves,
New friends voices, not just the whispering of the breeze.

I stretched a hand to help someone one cold windy day
I was rewarded ten fold and blest is such a special way,
For now I am no longer lonely for they call at least once a week,
And now voices and laughter of children to me often speak.

M Ann Margetson © March 15, 2001
2001/1179Laughter

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