MISS BEING

Down in the back meadow the air's so cold.
The livestock is huddled, herd's getting old.
The barn door hinges are barely holding on;
much falling apart since you've been gone.

Front pasture has gone to weed and seed.
Everywhere one looks there is more need
for baling and binding, nurturing and care.
Even the cupboards are looking more bare.

There was once a home filled with laughter,
reduced to quiet footsteps and even draftier.
Rugs seem so more threadbare here alone;
and windows seep chill in a romance gone.

It was not all happiness and easy delights.
There was a fair share of stress and fights.
In retrospect and memories tonight galore,
please don't think me wishing days of yore.

Remember tales of a once and future king?
Even noble, wise, powerful miss this thing
in arms pulling close, loving sweet kisses.
So grant me this time to miss being a Mrs.

(c) 2003 Ali Cecilie Sonder aka Rennie Lorca