Turnabout

written at Her Healing Bed

The daughters of derision
     Have lost their hold on me.
The sons of surly sarcasm
     Can clutch at me no more.
I wear my freedom proudly
     And glide on golden heels.

My life is not my own—
     I care for someone dearly,
And how her fortune goes
     Is all of my concern.
Her health is my desire;
     Her happiness my treasure.

No more do I take part
     In social competitions;
No more have I regard
     For worldly forms of measure.
My life has been refined
     To what is at the core.

My days are all too short
     To squander them in strife.
New meaning has infused
     My thoughtless prior life.


©2016 Michael Fraley




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