Swan Song
A frequent visitor is Mary Anne,
Who first did come before the bloom of rose
As tiny bud before it fully grows.
I blossomed too. A pattern then began.
I came to know when she would call again.
Though first she came as not a guest I chose,
I'm ready now each time she does impose
herself on me, and that has been the plan.
She comes. She goes. Late summer has drawn near.
I backward look. How every year did flee!
I forward look with something kin to fear.
I think that it a sorry day shall be
(A time I know is very nearly here)
When Mary Anne no longer calls on me.
(an oldie written some time before "Mary Anne"
left me forever! Seeing PD's blog the other day
made me think of it! If you are still confused, here
is a big hint: She only visits women!!)
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