Barry A. Lanier (Georgia)
She covets her pocketbooks and has no two alike,
And every month she goes to Belk's to buy a new one.
At 88, she still drives, with her huge sunglasses,
Making right turns like an 18-wheeler does.
She drives an average of 10 miles and hour,
Including stops when she remembers to she does.
Mom loves to attend all the social functions in town,
Especially the showers and weddings of the smitten young.
Armed with her pocketbook she'll sashay over to the buffet,
Fill her pocketbook with treasure, pigs-in-a-blankets,
Watercress and pimiento cheese sandwiches
All of which she'll eat later but she never does.
She always told me she grew up in the depression,
and a responsible mother would never turn down food.
They all harden and calcify like the plaque in her arteries,
Acquiescent to the fact, I empty her pocketbooks weekly.
'Mom, when are you going to quit driving I asked? '
'Oh about the same time that they quit having weddings and luncheons! '
Comments about this poem (Beware<b>(Author Favorite) by Barry A. Lanier )
The best paperback
books of 2013
Heart of Darkness and Other Great Works by Joseph Conrad
See the Original Magazine Publication
Samuel R. Delany Has Been Named Grand Master
For 2013 By The Science Fiction And Fantasy Writers Of America
The Best Poetry Books
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings