My grandmother’s sister is a spinster,
She is of the nomadic type, constantly asked to move there from here.
She tries to settle among us and be comfortable.
Attempting to enter the conversation
She talks and no one is listening,
So she removes herself to enter
Her sanctuary and mend.
Shortly she returns clutching to her an ancient purse,
The strap she had been so conscious to apply
Hangs loosely from her shoulder.
She sits in a cold chair that is distant. Read More
