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Lynne was the old folks home rebel
Angry that she had been sent here
She loved her hoarder house
She liked her collectibles; they were her friends.

The state had taken it all away
But they had not found her red glasses
Lynne was wearing them the day they threw her out.
Today she ran away from the old folks’ home
She did not need to associate with these old timers

I am not old or senile, she said to a butterfly.
The butterfly did not stay to hear, and that irritated her.
I like your shirt, a young lady said.
Lynne looked up. The lady had a pretty smile.
I used to be pretty, she told her.

You are beautiful, the young lady said.
Lynne followed her a few feet into the park.
She sat at a table and ate the egg she had saved from breakfast.
The birds kept her company. She knew one was a robin.
She had forgotten how lovely being outside felt.

You could go outside in the home, a voice said inside her mind.
She had been invited to the garden club many times.
She had always declined. Today she had an epiphany.
I like the outside! She thought.  She headed back to the home
To join the garden club.

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