I was writing poetry this (Thursday) evening, and really got myself in a funk. The topic of the poem was a personal look at how a loved one used to see me versus how they see me now. For better and for worse, I’ve changed over the years.

I’m not a good poet, but here’s what I wrote (I stopped writing is because I was getting too emotional.) It’s called I Used to be Her Jo:

I used to be her Jo, Joy

I used to be her Jo

Father didn’t want me

But Marmee loved me so

I never was Pop’s Joe, see

I’m not a good girl-boy

 

I was steady hands, she said

My darling girl, my Jo

Whenever there was need

Wherever there was woe

She called me her Jo, see

But now that girl is dead

 

I used to be her Jo, Joy

I used to be her Jo

That’s a very personal, raw part of me coming out. I might delete it. Who knows?

Here’s a kitty pic to cheer us all up:

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Keep your pen on the page,
Beth

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