When I finished with high school, the Depression was there;
Employment was ailing and gasping for air,
So, college was out, cardboard innersoles in,
Jogging unheard of, and everyone thin.
So, when ego was finally trampled to dust,
I took any old job. One does what one must.

As a second-maid then, unwilling but able,
I learned how to set a magnificent table,
With roses and candles and finger-bowls, too.
Oh, well, I can laugh and, believe me, I do!
Now let’s jump ahead to dictation and phones,
To dating and dancing, house-hunting and loans –

To a time when the pill was still bucking bad weather,
And our children, all five, arrived too close together.
With no time on my hands and no coins in my purse,
I taught myself how to write lyrical verse.
By the time I was publishing, safe in my stride,
Traditional poetry sickened and died.

I had thirty-one years with the love of my youth,
Now I wasn’t yet seedy nor long in the tooth.
With my kids out of school, it was my turn at last.
I took courses in Cleveland and Athens and passed!
With lyrical poetry dead in its grave,
I then turned to art and the solace it gave,

And when I got good, when I started to sell,
My eyesight betrayed me. Oh, dammit to hell!
And so I crocheted, and my work covered acres.
I gave afghans away ’til I ran out of takers.
Now talking books cheer me; I won’t go ’round the bend.
I can read with my ears and still laugh with a friend.