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
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
