Biddy and the Bitch

It’s rainy. I don’t want to make a fuss.
I’m fit but old and home is beckoning.
I try to exit (rear door) from the bus –
“Excuse me” doesn’t budge youth reckoning
I’ll edge aside – I get to hear her cuss
while boarding, as I shoulder-clip her wing.
And what did I accomplish or improve?
I think next time it happens, she might move.

(Ottava Rima)

This entry was posted in Aging, Lessons, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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