The Present

A hundred words are not enough

To say what I would say.

A hundred words are not enough

To wipe your tears away.

The milk is sour. The bread is stale.

The mirror’s surface, blotched.

Your energy has left you,

And your slightest move is watched.

Your bright success is going dim,

Your proud attempts, forgotten.

Your wrinkles seem more prominent.

Your garden’s yield, more rotten.

What do you crave, that irks you so?

What strikes you as unpleasant?

You want the you of long ago,

And can’t accept the present.

Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew

For an essay on homeschooling Halloweens past, read Is Halloween Over?

For an essay on the care and feeding of children, and a bit about my family, read Our Stems are Fragile.