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The Writers Page: Getting Real

Getting Real
By Sherry Bannan

GETTING REAL

 

 

The Rose Bush that I planted gave solace to my heart.

A thing of beauty it would be if I gave it a good start.

So I tended it with vigor and I watered it with care

And soon its blossoms’ fragrance wafted through the air

And in my mind its robust branches reached up for the sky

But it wasn’t two weeks later that the aphids sucked it dry

 

The little girl I nurtured was wise beyond her years,

With a gentleness for helpless things that filled my soul with tears.

She’d surely be a doctor or a teacher or a nurse

She’d have appreciation for art and prose and verse

Now she’s a young beauty with skin as pure as snow

But on her thigh, she sports a “tat” of some guy I don’t know

 

The little boy I cuddled as he sat upon my knee

Had a gift for words and letters and he learned to read by three

He’s bound to be an orator, his speeches will inspire

He’ll fight for right and justice; he’ll set the world on fire.

But now he’s always looking down, he’s texting on his phone

And the only words we hear from him are a grunt, a snort or groan

 

 

The guy I pledged to walk with until the very end,

Possesses many virtues, he’s my lover, he’s my friend.

And as we walk life’s journey, he always has been there,

To laugh with me, to comfort me or just find things to share

But though he is my hero, in his armor, there are chinks,

I hate to have to say it, but he burps and farts and drinks

 

We humans strive for such control, we plan and plot and scheme

While life moves on, with no regard, a swiftly flowing stream

Don’t deny your aspirations; or your quest for the ideal