I have the soul
Of a bitter old woman
Spending her days on her
Front porch in a rocking chair
Cursing the sun for shining
Cursing the flowers for blooming
Cursing the children for being young
Cursing the lovers for being happy
Cursing the grass for growing
Cursing the cold cup of tea
In her cold, bony hand
Cursing herself for
Being so old
And bitter.