Think me not a fool (diary of a widow)

It has been seven years since you departed

Seven years have come

Seven years have gone

that time is lost never to be found
still I stand looking, hoping for another hand to hold.

Oh think me not a fool or an easy mark
perhaps a onetime roll in the hay

for I am better than the sum of those parts.

Think me not a fool or as a book that

once read can be laid aside and in the knowing
related to their friends and then what of me?

Am I then just one step closer to nowhere,
or shall I smile and Vanish without a trace?

Nor will I be as a broken pen trying to fill a blank page
but one of full measure.

Think me not a fool,
for I will not be as a candle
that the master has snuffed out before retiring,
thus, leaving the passageway dark and open
awaiting the renewing light of day.

Shall I stand looking out past the leaded glass

to the barren snow-covered fields.
Or perhaps I should compare myself to

a berry laden tree bent over with the heaviness

of its winter’s fruit,

of which no bird or animal or man will partake
for to eat of it is poison
and thus, to die.




Poem by David L Painter.
About taking women for granted
and as worthless sex objects
then as well as now.