I sit and rock on my porch
I watch people go by
So many on Sunday, going to church
But other days I just watch the sky
My rocking chair is my friend
She treats me fairly day after day
She will be with me when my days end
But for now, she never lets me stray
People smile and wave
I swear some do when I am asleep
Will they visit me when I am in my grave?
I would like to think some would weep.