Forgotten

I hear sobbing in a place I cannot see,
The whims and sniffs coming from beyond a tree,
I walk over to see what it may be,
Then I saw her as she looked at me.

Her eyes were crimson red,
Her face so coarse, had not been bathed,
Her tears were so heavey you could hear them fall,
The wounds on her flesh were the worst of all.

I reached my hand but could not touch her,
Yet through my eyes I could see her,
She bore worse wounds in her heart,
I winced as it pained my heart.

A generation had forsaken her bosom,
Now old and frail, no flower would blossom,
I cried as I realised then,
That this is what it was, to be forgotten.