Email Poem

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Poem

I doubt if I am unique but I love to play, draw, dance and cartoon.
I like staring for hours at oak trees, dead leaves, cats and the moon.
I yelled “no” to my first grade teacher which labelled me for life.
I never wanted to be a girl, woman, or anyone’s girlfriend or wife.

Peter Pan lives in my soul along with Pippi Longstocking and Oliver.
Books became my best friends; especially The Tollbooth Tolliver.
Nightly I sit with two I-pads on my lap, playing hours of word games.
I paint four to six paintings a week, cartoons of women of Thames.

Ten grandchildren know me as the fun-loving wild woman of Me.
“Be you” is a theme I paint on practically every painting they see.
Many express surprise that I am sixty-eight, which I think is great.
I plan to learn new things until the day I end up at the pearly gate.

I thought I had created my own spirituality until I read some books.
Native Americans have always believed in the same; this reality shook.
I am clairaudient and clairsentience – seeing and hearing the deceased.
There is nothing unique about me, except my hair is incredibly greased.

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