The marriage, the move, my divorce,
Lovers come and gone, the children grown
Now on city streets of joy and tears I walk alone.

Some bungalows and Tudors in renovation,
Others with lamp-lit windows where memories are sown
Marriage, the move, my separation.

I do not shed nostalgia, or weep at days
Gone by. My memories are honed.
These city streets hold joys and tearful ways.

I am the grandmother now at concerts and at sports;
I treasure who and what I’ve loved, lost and known,
The marriage, the move, even my divorce.

The tree trunks raise the sidewalks here and there,
Stout roots spreading and full of knots.
These city streets hold years of joy and tears.

In the clarity of cold I see what it is I feared
And know what we long for are resting spots.
My marriage, the move, even my divorce;
These city streets I walk are made of joy and tears.