Every day she sits at her window, To each passerby she waves, then sighs, No one acknowledges her, They just avert their eyes How she wishes for someone to call on her, To while away an hour, Maybe share a cup of tea, And some cookies from her jar She can’t go outside her house anymore, Her legs have grown weak, She has social services visit her, They bring her food to eat She once was young and pretty, And went to work each day, Old age has robbed her of her independence, Her life is dull and grey So maybe next time you pass her house, You will pause for a little while, To give her a friendly wave, And perhaps a little smile