* Not Her Choice Comments

Beautiful image, Ernestine. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.

This poem touched my heart. Emotions well expressed. Sadness but acceptance.

THis is quiet a sad poem. But this is real. Growing old alone is such a sad thing. When their lives have been lived for others, the hand that rocks the cradle now leaves them. When one’s alone and love has gone. Memories come slowly flooding back, And here she is still wearing black, With years of toil etched on her face.