To me. more adoration was obscene

A friend wished to insult me with her words
She was angry that I seemed to draw in men
You Siren, she exclaimed, in tones absurd
I stared astonished, feeling puzzled then

I wore  thick glasses, carried my old books
Read Birkhoff and McLean and Wittgenstein
To me, it was no insult to my looks
It was a compliment, not word malign

And I was married to a gentle man
Had never noticed what she’d claimed to see.
My evenings were spent boiling meat in pans
To me.  more  adoration was obscene

Now I grow old and see my hair go thin
I marvel at the label, you Siren!

Advertisements

About Katherine

I like poetry, literature and music.And conversation
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s