Untilted

I am satire and sweet tea.
I wonder if I raised my children well enough to raise their own.
I hear the sun creeping into my bedroom, bathing my husband’s face with light and dew of the early morning.
I see tiny threads playing the youth like puppets as they attempt to run our country, driven by that cruel puppeteer.
I want to pass peacefully in my slumber, opening my eyes to the pearly gates and the welcoming smiles of the ones forgotten over the long periods of time.
I am satire and sweet tea.

I pretend to listen to the ramblings of different opinions, while I hold my tongue in fury and thinking in spite of my self that I know better.
I feel the warm caresses of a lover never erased from memory, whose face I see often in the late hours of the night.
I touch the hearts of many with my testimony of dealing with my hardest obstacle…Myself.
I worry for those abandoned by their families and for my youngest who is dealing with abandon himself.
I cry when my husband has his lapses, where I am a mere stranger in our bed that we have shared for decades.
I am satire and sweet tea.

I understand the need of love and the loss of it, living through the pain of a lost child and the rejection of love in my youth.
I say what I mean and mind what I say.
I dream of my childhood, lost at fifteen when reality came crashing down upon me like waves on the black sand beach.
I try to remember my grandfather, the best man I have ever had the privilege knowing.
I hope to live each day to the fullest and enjoy life for what it’s worth.
I am satire and sweet tea.