Poetry from the Generations 

Coming Home
by Velma M. Carlson

It’s lonely to come home alone
   To an empty house, so still.
The nites are – Oh, so very long
   It has a sort of chill.
No one here to meet me when
   I unlock the door.
Always makes me think of him
   And how it was before.
We were always together
   In everything we did.
But now that I am all alone
   It’s just memories I relive.
Sometimes they make me happy
   Then again I feel so sad.
When it think of when he went away
   And the sorrow we all had,
Life must go on, some say to me,
   And I know it’s very true,
But the loneliness still lingers
   In everything I do.  

2/18/88  

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