Mom and Dad have passed on to celestial homes,
My children are grown now, out on their own;
I spend much time daydreaming and jotting down lines,
Desiring to compose a poem so sublime. I've given unselfishly all of my life,
Begrudged not being daughter, mother, nor wife,
At the end of this month, I'll be fifty-two,
What have I accomplished? There's much to aspire to. There's a major upheaval churning in me,
My restless spirit implores to break free;
In this humdrum existence, I can celebrate,
Toward achieving my life's goal, I must concentrate. As I let go the mundane, my mind fills with ideas,
Peace washes o'er me, I exist without fears;
Ridicule or rejection, I don't even consider,
I'm extremely tenacious, nor am I a quitter! Desperately seeking for what? I don't know,
Earthly wealth and fame - I hardly think so!
Striving for some modicum of success,
In the realm of poetry is my one true test.