When yr mum puts her used test strips
In yr Diet Coke
It's about that time to leave
You don't know whether to laugh
Or cry
But you know yr Coke is ruined
Though, you drink it anyway
Because you're short in supply
And hate to waste it
You can't get angry
Because she's disappearing
Her former self is lost in memory
You got to be patient
Because it's a virtue
But every day is a struggle
You're losing yourself
As a caregiver
But the poet inside of you
Is frustrated
She wants to go NYC
But you tell her "No! "
You got to protect yr mum
You'll leave when she passes away
"Cool it" you say finally
And another day passes
As you die more
Her former self is lost in memory You got to be patient Because it's a virtue But every day is a struggle You're losing yourself.... The poet inside is frustrated.. bringing in hidden feelings and emotions.. lovely one. tony
For some reason, this reminds me of Shakespeare's definition of sleep...those tiny slices of death. Superbly done, LeeAnn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a superb piece.....thank u... LeeAnn...