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Aging

Age creeps up on me--then--

At time shouts!

--Telling me that I am fifty-seven

And to stop pretending I am thirty-three

--Telling me that I am not a jeune fille

--Telling me to put on my shawl

And start knitting.

Dutifully, I put on the shawl--

Then I dance around the living room

To wild music

Surrender?

Never.

 
       
       

 

 

 

Hapiness Obscured

Clouds move in---

That sunshine will not dissipate

Nor the winds of good fortune eliminate

Nor laughter end

Only love and sharing

Can make lonely clouds

Evaporate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mourning

she was at best, an inadequate Mother:
often spiteful, often cruel
Never loving and giving.

Then she died.
I often miss her.
In stores I find gifts to give her for Xmas.
Today is Thanksgiving; I think
--I should call her

My mother was a challenge and I miss her.
A difficult mother is better than none.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All poems © Nancy I Buck 2004

 

 

 

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