Good-Neighbor-Liness Disease
She had the disease only small-town women usually get
But she got it, and she was a New Yorker.
Born and raised on three blocks.
An anomaly.
Always wanting to help someone
Asking if we needed anything
Arranging the cakes for others weddings
Never having one of her own
Babysitting other’s children
Never confessing to one herself.
A friend to the friendless
A pillar on the block
The go-to-person who always went
Who always came
Who was the first one.
She died of
Good-neighbor-liness,
And we were all the recipients,
Taking more than we gave.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment