In the warmer months
The ladies sit on the bench
And watch the passersby.

The ladies are old now
Some very tired and frail

They talk amongst themselves
And watch the passersby.

They were all young once
They were all girls once

Some sassy, some quiet
Some thin, some on a diet

Some undoubtedly wore lipstick
And tight skirts

Some went to Sunday school
Some were flirts.

Now they sit on the bench
And watch the passersby

When my daughter rides by
on her tricycle
She smiles and waves

The old ladies smile and wave back
And just for a moment
You can see the girls they once were