a few years ago I wrote this poem for a dear friend. It is very special to me.
Asian Pears
Your story was this: you were happy
then you were sad.
You slept, You awakened...
Sometimes you ate persimmons.
At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
What could you say? mostly it seems you were silent.
Actions were taken
or not-
It doesn't matter what they will make of you.
Of your days... they will be wrong.
They will never speak of the little girl propelled into womanhood.
All the stories they tell will be of their own bromidic invention.
You were happy, then you were sad.
Sometimes you ate asian pears.
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