An Old Women's Wisdom (To My Grandmother) Poem by Kevin Patrick

</>An Old Womans wisdom
Is the spilt milk of reason
Ornamental curled voice
Of a flea market mystic

Like crows on a wire
Tanned with old withered leather
They regale their last days
Sitting crouched on their porches
Dissecting the remains
Of the youth the despise
With Benevolent respects
For pneumatic emphasis
Handing out sage oppinion
That has low wage credentials
One could learn from quick thinking
Without falling from lifes tree

In the parlor of their kitchens
They will pass myriad stories
While watching mothers with Toddlers
Searching for absentee fathers
They then dropp the crone's melee
Taking their sympathy dog tags
For tutelage of young women
While appraising their children
In the cause of reminiscence
When their houre had purpose
But they are still little girls
To time's insensitive portrait

An old women's truth
Has tattooed holes for clues
Great experiance rehearsed
For a funerals understudy