old lady
Old Lady
by holly day
She is still staring at me
from across the street.
I have flung my own drapes
wide open, wide, wide open,
moved the breakfast table into the front room
so she can see everything I do,
so that she won’t have to guess about me
the way I have to about her.
This came through quickly. A midwestern poem. Which it’s always surprising to get an inclusive poem from the the MW. I could have written this many, many times, but I simply never thought of it. It’s observant, friendly and funny.
Great work Holly. Very clever.
I couldn’t agree more