She would give all of herself,
every last scrap for me,
which is something wild to
think on
She is simple, some would
say, and they may make
fun, she is rude at times,
especially when provoked
She is forgiveness
and unforgiveness, and has
lived a hard life, stuck
somewhere when her own
mother died
She is the queen of my eye
and in ways I will not be
like her, and she always
wants me back home,
back to be her little one,
to pet me and keep me
But I am far too old
and time has moved far
too on for that now,
and all we have is who
we are in the change.
