Your wife stresses that
we must live in memories
from second grade
through college, where -
bless her -
she pressed on:
creating your future
impressing your duties
obsessing over
her wedding dress,
stoically repressing our plans.
Nevertheless,
our past possesses a life and power
she hasn't been able to depress.
Still, we're wrong together,
I confess.
© MLydiaM 1985
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7 comments:
Cute poem. Have you gotten any info about your raccoon dilemma?
Lisa
I love that, Lydia......more, more!
Lydia- this poem leaves me curious, wanting .... VERY good!
Yess! That's good, Lydia!
And you're on the photo? Hmmm, top row?
Lisa,
Thanks for reading. I haven't placed the call yet. Mike showed me what he has in mind to place around the tree: a wooden trellis that I have high hopes for being a solution. I'm still planning on checking in with your contact, though.
WW,
I appreciate that......thanks, thanks!
Honour,
Yea! I'm so glad to receive your compliment!
Francessa,
Thanks so much! You are an astute observer, my friend. Don't you admire the bangs my mother made using pin-curls? The subject of the poem is there too, but will remain unspecified... :)
Awesome bangs on that sprightly little girl! Must have taken some time!
I think that today's hairstyles are so much more attractive, but who knows, maybe in the future when we look back on pictures of today they will seem odd as well!
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