She Is…
Well, readers, I did watch yesterday’s Panorama. It reminded me strongly of an original poem I wrote several years ago:
She Is
To you
She is
A mouth to feed
A form to fill
A file to read
The one sitting still
In a filled bed, or a chair on wheels.
You would never believe that she longs to wear high heels…
She is your statistic
Your percentage
Your number
Your target
Your aim
Your nine o’clock
You are just objective…
To you… she is just an object.
To us
She is
The daughter of who we dreamed
The baby girl who screamed
The much loved sister
Whose only fault is that
She can’t play Had! Or Twister
The treasured friend
Whose love will never end.
The much loved wife
Who promised love for life.
The favourite aunt
Who gave the favourite potted plant.
The mother like no other
Who loved one son and then his brother.
She is a member of our family
A part of our lives
We know her feelings, her hopes and her dreams.
We know her favourite colour, song and football teams.
To us… she is… a person.
Same Difference 