Ma'am Poem by Elena Plotkin
Ma'am
On my way to Kalmazoo,
I met a man just shy of twenty-two.
He looked through me and called me ma'am.
When I pushed I had no idea he never swam.
How was I to know he had never learned?
Of course when he drowned I was concerned.
But an old decript ma'am like me has no vigor or vim,
At forty-five and counting, I was too old to save him.
(C) 2016 Copyright Elena Plotkin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/18/2024 8:35:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Sic. (And guys, I'll give you a heads up, because a lot of you just aren't LISTENING: The woman in this situation gets to decides when she has been scorned - NOT YOU! Okay?)