Who shuffles in her house shoes
From chair
To bathroom
To kitchen
Only to repeat it again
Conversation has left me
Desiring to dream
Daring to live
Those are gone too
Out with the microwave packages
That pile up when I eat
So I walk my long triangle
And people stay away
Because not knowing what to say
Scares people
It's easier to bring a drink you like
And leave quickly.
I have become the Old Lady
Who shuffles in her house shoes
With no dreams,
No ambition,
Not even wondering
What happens when the microwave dies.
