Crowded Poem by Carolyn Brunelle

Phone rings before
I even get out of bed;
I know who it is
She’s old, she wants to talk.
Bathroom is occupied
Each time I need it
I have to wait till later.
An appointment drives me
To the shower yet he wants
To talk;
Stands next to me the
Whole time I dry my hair
Put on makeup.
Seems I can’t make a move
That I am not smothered today.
God how I wish for some
Of my own space;
My own air to breathe.
These wrangled nerves
Could use a little solitude
And some peace and quiet.