The Three Messengers
She is older now, so I let the small things go.
She’s not wiser than she was, yet how the stories flow.
I let her spin them out for the fifteenth time today.
My ear grows tired of the noise and tunes itself away.
She’s more needy now; she wants me to clean her toes.
She even asked me once to pop the pimple on her nose!
There is always something, always another demand.
I grimace a bit, then comply with each of her commands.
It will soon be me, Queen Bee with all her powers.
I won’t remember anything, and I’ll rattle on for hours.
I hope my children will be loving toward my fragile frame.
and have kind and gentle hearts as they watch me slowly wane.
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