Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.45
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
She bustles
her boys out of bed
grouse, groan, growl
groggy gripes
snarky snipes, as they squabble
their way to breakfast

Packs their lunch
crunch, smack, munch, they eat
hurry boys-
catch the bus
flurry and fuss all the way
outdoors, scuffing floors

She sighs, so
relieved, can't be peeved
not today!
her Tuesday
to spend her own way, so she
tidies up, takes off

Catches train
excited to see
city sights
outlook bright
she perks up, suddenly a
plucky pup- young, free!

Sylvia
housewife on the loose
no restraints
restrictions
glorious contradiction
of her daily life

Not his wife
or their mother- No!
Today she's
just herself
happy, hopped down from the shelf
and gone out to play 

Takes her time
slowly strolls up the
street, feeling
quite complete
savoring silence, she sips
sugary coffee

Has a word
with little old man
in the park
half deaf, he
BARKS his reply- my oh my!
People stop and stare

Sylvia
doesn't even care
He's lonely
and so sweet
puts coffee down, and pulls him
to his feet, and they 

Dance and sway
around the park, glad
no longer
sad, lonesome
little old man, but Dapper
Dan, a youth again

Coy, he toys
and play-flirts with her
happy smiles
silly grins
blows a kiss as she moves on
remembering when

Next she spies
an odd street vendor
racks of caps
gaudy hats
in all their silly splendor
ridiculous fun

And she must
have one! So many
to choose from
she picks one
with feathers and fake plums, so
garish it's charming

Then she stops
at the five & dime
wasting time
gathering
a hoard of candy to eat
by herself- her treat!

She buys two
plastic six-shooters
too, popping
caps, BAP! BAP!
She pretends to shoot all the
crabby folks she sees

Not amused
they glare at her and
criticize
mean looks in
their eyes, she should “act her age”
the world's not her stage

But they're wrong
today it is, and
she's a whiz
real McCoy
thirty-seven and a half
year old, grown-tomboy

All day long
(at least until three)
she is free
rollicking
rowdy and raucous, climbing
trees and scraping knees

But before
the kids get home and
husband comes
she transforms
Housewife-Sylvia once more
catching up her chores

When they ask
“What'd you do all day?”
she smirks, says
“I'll never
tell” and they roll eyes, thinking
they know her so well...

And she laughs
plotting next play-day
in her head
where she'll go
shenanigans she'll pull as
she paints the town red!
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required