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365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)

You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: http://someturbidnight.blogspot.ca/ :)

Monday, September 29, 2008

Sonnet CCLXXIII

Of late, she thinks about herself and how she’s changed.
She’s old, dependent, dying, trapped within her home.
She planned on travelling, to Paris, Cuba, Rome,
but now she lives off pensions, locked inside her cage.
She thinks of youth, and misses it, a bit amazed
at how the time has passed. Her only son is grown –
but stingy – keeping phone calls, money for his own,
while thinking she’s decrepit and deranged.

Her son would never spend a measly dime for her
despite his wealth. She’s raised him all these years, to err!

And yet – to err is only human. What of that?
Forgiveness is divine! If sons decide to scorn,
then who’ll coerce their smiles, forced and falsely warm?
An honest miser’s better than a lying rat.

3 comments:

  1. Very nice storytelling here.

    And your descriptions of the difficulties of aging...reminds me of difficulties my mother-in-law is having. (She's 80.) Thankfully her son is a good guy. ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you! Aging's always hard...but I'm sure your mother-in-law's in fantastic hands!

    ReplyDelete

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!