When I am old and calmed,
And my longings have faded,
With only memories left to share the bed,
And peace to share the fire instead.
Beneath my cleansing cap,
I’ll wear my hair in gentle curls,
And my cold, frail hands
I’ll lay upon my lap, just to watch them rest.
I’ll wear a dress with springtime flowers,
With ribbons tied around my throat.
I’ll keep the curtain open to the city,
And softly hum a quiet note.
And I will forget the path of tears,
And stir my tea with care and grace,
But oh! These blessed coming years—
I only wish for more of them to embrace.
