by Betty Jo Petty

Created on: April 05, 2008   Last Updated: December 04, 2008

A life lived in strife, and little glory.

Now's the time to tell this story.

This little girl lost her mother; (to the c-word, cancer), well:

The girl moved once more; in with grandmother.

Took some time to pull it together,

decided to put it behind her, don't let it fret her.

Went to school, almost every day,

only sickness could keep her away.

Loved those halls her mother had roamed.

Gee, had She sat, in that very room?

Time gave this girl some grace, and space;

left behind tears, time could erase.

Poured herself into those books, to learn all she could.

Oh, Shakespeare and Poe, and all the rest:

writing of madness; and love by the brooks.

Running around through the streets of this town;

sleeping at grandmother's each night:

on those crisp white sheets.

Slowly, so slowly, each year went by,

there some fun, here a tear, having to cry.

Remember that first love? (the Catholic boy),

they did love each other, for awhile it did seem.

Asked her to marry, what could she say?

No, we're too young; as if in a dream.

Went to the East Coast; saw all those sights.

Back to the small town, without all the frights.

Moved on from there; to her regret married,

(what, she only knew him two months?).

Had three beautiful children, and sometimes a pet.

Strange how the children became the parent here;

had to protect her from living in fear.

Children are grown now, and moving away;

time for this girl to go, what more can I say?

Moving on would be so good;

so, yes, go ahead, do as you should.

Move on.

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