Poem for creative writing class. I had to write one as how I would see myself as 60 |
I am satire and sweet tea. I wonder if I raised my children well enough to raise their own. I hear the sun creeping into my bedroom, bathing my husband’s face with light and dew of the early morning. I see tiny threads playing the youth like puppets as they attempt to run our country, driven by that cruel puppeteer. I want to pass peacefully in my slumber, opening my eyes to the pearly gates and the welcoming smiles of the ones forgotten over the long periods of time. I am satire and sweet tea. I pretend to listen to the ramblings of different opinions, while I hold my tongue in fury and thinking in spite of my self that I know better. I feel the warm caresses of a lover never erased from memory, whose face I see often in the late hours of the night. I touch the hearts of many with my testimony of dealing with my hardest obstacle…Myself. I worry for those abandoned by their families and for my youngest who is dealing with abandon himself. I cry when my husband has his lapses, where I am a mere stranger in our bed that we have shared for decades. I am satire and sweet tea. I understand the need of love and the loss of it, living through the pain of a lost child and the rejection of love in my youth. I say what I mean and mind what I say. I dream of my childhood, lost at fifteen when reality came crashing down upon me like waves on the black sand beach. I try to remember my grandfather, the best man I have ever had the privilege knowing. I hope to live each day to the fullest and enjoy life for what it’s worth. I am satire and sweet tea. |