Sitting alone in an old rocking chair,
I saw an old mother with silvery hair,
She looked so neglected by those who should care,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

Her hands were all callused and wrinkled and old,
A life of hard work was the story they told,
And I thought of angels when I saw her there,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

Bless her old heart, do you think she complained,
Though life had been bitter she'd live it again,
And carry the cross that was more than her share,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

It wouldn't take much to gladden her heart,
Just some small remembrance on somebody's part,
A letter would brighten her empty life there,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair

I know some children in an orphan home,
Who'd think they owned heaven if she were their own,
They'd never be willing to let her sit there,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

I look at her and I think what a shame,
The ones that forgot her she still loves the same,
And I think of angels when I see her there,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

Bob Miller





         

  


 

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