When yr mum puts her used test strips
In yr Diet Coke
It's about that time to leave
You don't know whether to laugh
...
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Her former self is lost in memory You got to be patient Because it's a virtue But every day is a struggle You're losing yourself.... The poet inside is frustrated.. bringing in hidden feelings and emotions.. lovely one. tony
For some reason, this reminds me of Shakespeare's definition of sleep...those tiny slices of death. Superbly done, LeeAnn.
This is a superb piece.....thank u... LeeAnn...