Sad,
but even surrounded
by my kids,
wonder what century this is.
where did my world go
all the values I once knew,
I'm sure I instilled them.
I'm out of touch I'm told,
I guess I am since women
now-a-days don't
work, cook, clean, Iron, *** I iron,
I'm patriotic, and I pray,
believe in meals on the table.
Yep I cook from scratch
not something boxed
that gets delivered daily.
Dayummmmmm
I am out of touch.
But it sure feels good
being able to
fend for myself,
able to cope,
with what the hell
ever is thrown at me.
Yep, I'm out of touch
with some of the
crap they watch on tv
Their reality is
not my reality.
passing the tissues.  
hugs
Patty m

•<>•

we wince inside,
more than smile,
when we venture outside,
outside being anywhere
our eyes take us

the simple notion we carried,
the simple notion given us,
see me, watch me, learn from me,
be like me, for my model is
a not-so-bad one, even if the
styling is so retro,
with its yes ma'am, no ma'am,
can I help you with that sir,
and with a wave and a smile,
let them go in front, cut in,
even though our time is far not, closer shorter,
and hurry is not in the
top ten list of our commandments

be not wistful,
or
unforgiving,
from your window
you can see a green land, well endowed,
where speech freedom yet lives,
not a half bad achievement

perhaps we did not suckle them perfect,
for they are and err in contented
perfect surety
intolerance of anything but newer ways,
that too oft are the discards
of older ideas born of a
disproved arrogant new math
of selfie-righteousness


but let us no croak too much
like old people croaked about us

for we both fear for them,
far more than we silent chide,
the days to come seem so fraught
with excesses we tolerated

wonder if
they will be forced to buy their manufactured water in masticated plastic,
drinking tap water a dangerous high, or food of any kind be plenty after
seven decades of famine

wonder if
they will work for the robots,
those labor saving devices that will
steal the honor of labor, the dignity of a paycheck's message, the honor of rising early to work

wonder if
the madmen we tolerated,
that we chose to ignore,
will return to them
a racked and ruined world

wonder if
they will recall, renember
the kindness of soft spokeness,
the tolerance for a well reasoned argument
and be open to the bounty of
thoughtful persuasion
and the relief in and of
hope

wonder if I despair?
do not!
for daily they come here,
where good word's rule,
tender their fears,
leaving behind the arrogance
perhaps reading these,
even these words
and realize that the good we have the good we struggled to bequeath,
was born from
good struggle,
in more struggle,
is the only way to be
less afraid

nattyman