She always leaned to watch for us,
Anxious if we were late.
In winter by the window,
In summer by the gate.
And though we mocked her tenderly,
Who had such foolish care?
The long way home would seem more safe,
Because she waited there.
Her thoughts were all so full of us,
She never could forget.
And so I think that where she is,
She must be watching yet.
Waiting til we come home to her,
Anxious if we were late.
Watching from heaven’s window,
Leaning from heaven’s gate.

By Wendy