Oh let me learn from her how not to act,
and even as my finger joints get gnarly,
let me cultivate the skill of tact,
and never let my visage be so snarly.
As far back as my memory extends
her choices have repulsed me, and compelled
me taking other paths to other ends,
and filled me with disdain while grieving welled.
Much older than I ever dreamed we’d be,
I can’t effect a change in her, but me
I still can nurture. I will yet improve.
Oh let me deviate, while I can move.