Married Miss

The year 1850 I bear my soul to all who ask, “Who is this woman, what is her task ?” My task is great, I became a wife, bore twelve children, gone has my life. The endless toil with little respect, my load has been heavy, I often reflect, On days gone by when I felt free, Oh, where is the ‘Miss’ I used to be. The ‘Miss’ is there but she is imprisoned, In my aged body, so tired, so wizened. I look in the mirror, my eyes say to me, Love blinded you woman, and you couldn’t see. PaulineConnelly