Monday, November 5, 2012
a jot from my AP English notebook...
She babbles, she rambles and I can't pretend to care.
There may have been a time when she knew what to say,
when she knew what was there.
Her cats, no longer kittens, they spend all her time.
Her time, they've spent, they've got her running and lo, she's run right past it
she's run right past her prime
Riddled to bits by her own glory
she feels she is too wise
"The kids these days aren't what they used to be, they eat things with their eyes."
This madness, these children
are they worth her time?
There must be something bigger,
something with purpose and design.
She feels she is too wise
to waste her time with children who "eat things with their eyes".
Yet, she goes home and pulls in to the third house on the left.
Her cats are no longer kittens, they leave her unsatisfied,
her kittens grown into cats leave her feeling bereft.
She turns the key, opens the door and it's empty inside...
Her kittens are cats, and they're runaways at that.