Grandma smiles her secret smile
and she pretends she does not hear
as she recalls the dashing style
Of her unknown cavalier.
Who used to sing love songs to her.
When she was young so long ago
and she remembers how things were.
She wonders if she’ll ever know
What happened to her troubadour.
She’s half convinced he had to go
and join the ranks to fight the war.
Fond memories from long ago.
Her daughter brings hot chocolate
and interrupts her reverie.
Says mother dear the hour grows late.
Drink this and you will sleep soundly
And so to bed perchance to dream
of being sweet sixteen again.
A maiden held in high esteem.
But this is now and that was then.
She is content though she is old
She wed and raised a family.
But some secrets can not be told.
More valued for their privacy.
The tinkle of a mandolin
from the dark courtyard far below.
Recalls forgotten memories
that swiftly come and slowly go.