A Message For My Grandkids

The Watcher
     - Margaret Widdemer


She always leaned to watch for us,
  Anxious if we were late,
In winter at the window,
  In summer by the gate.

And though we mocked her tenderly,
  Who had such foolish care,
This 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 waiting yet.

Waiting 'till we come home to her,
  Anxious if we are late--
Watching from heaven's window,
  Leaning from heaven's gate.