We make up from long lonely nights,
          and you go to work.
We buy a house for our coming child,
          and you mow the lawn.
It rains outside for days,
          making the creek become a river.
We sit, watch movies,
          and go to the hospital.
I have our baby,
          we pick a name,
And I cry.

We leave the hospital,
          to bring her home to live.
I don't feel like your wife anymore,
          and we don't sleep together.
You aren't home much but one time you are.
          We fight, while you pack, you leave,
And I cry.

As she grows older,
          she asks about you more.
We sit together,
          and watch the water dance in it's bed.
We go on the only way we know how,
          as she continues to grow.
She goes to parties, gets her license,
          and marries the man of her dreams.
And I cry.

I live in our house alone,
          and never hear from you.
She becomes pregnant,
          making me a grandmother.
She brings the twins here,
          but her visits always end abruptly.
And I cry.

I sit alone now,
          and seldom see her.
She has her own life,
          and doesn't come around.
I walk along the river,
          thinking of you both.
And I cry.

I become very ill,
          and feel like giving up.
Someone decides to help me,
          and somehow I pull through.
You never call, as I suspected would happen,
          but she loves me again.
And I cry.

I am taken home by her,
          and she brings her family.
They stay in our house with me,
          the children dance all day long.
Her husband goes home,
          and his plane falls.
She is saddened,
          as are her children.
And I cry.

She opens her heart eventually,
          and moves into our house.
The river runs more,
          the forest continuously growing.
I get sick again,
          and there is no help available this time,
I have only to stay at home,
          to wait.
And I cry.