It is funny how as years go by,
you start to disappear.
You end up talking to yourself,
occasionlly you may get..
'What dear'
You can rant and rave,
cry, scream and shout.
But what is the point,
after ten minutes they say..
'What were you talking about'
I thought it was just me,
being a nag and a bore.
Being a twisty old wife,
going on more and more.
But girls it is not us,
it is them..'just you watch'
Talk about chore's even yourself,
and they just simply switch off.
They do it so bravely,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Witty yet probing. Regards, Gina.