Valsa George Change Poems

ROLLING WHEELS

Ancestors depart, leaving no heirlooms to keep
Years flip by with all dreams stashed away
...

I stared into the mirror,
Wincing at my own reflection
Through eyes fogged by cataract,
Saw a black tint spreading around my eyes
...

In her teens, she had a wasp waist
All her dress would then nicely fit
Now she is all blubber
More like rubber
...