Just Last Week by Eileen Vorbach Collins
I had a big garden.
Lemons photo by E.V. Collins
Just last week, I was 20 years old
With long thick hair parted down the middle
This morning, in my mirror is a woman
With thinning white hair so short it needs no part
Just last week, I marched in Washington
to protest a war in a faraway land
Assuming, in my naivety
that all lives matter
Today, faced with the reality
That some lives matter more
My son marches with a sign
“Say her name”
Just last week, I backpacked through Europe
Using my thumb and youth to get a ride
Today, I add Lyft and Uber to my apps
I am wary of strangers
Just last week, I married
Certain we’d grow old together
Instead, we grew apart
Each finding love again
Just last week, two young dogs
Came to be my companions
Today, one is blind
And the big one sleeps all day
Just last week, I grew tomatoes
And three types of lettuce
On my knees in a big garden
Today, I grow lemons on my patio
Aren’t they lovely in my blue bowl?
With long thick hair parted down the middle
This morning, in my mirror is a woman
With thinning white hair so short it needs no part
Just last week, I marched in Washington
to protest a war in a faraway land
Assuming, in my naivety
that all lives matter
Today, faced with the reality
That some lives matter more
My son marches with a sign
“Say her name”
Just last week, I backpacked through Europe
Using my thumb and youth to get a ride
Today, I add Lyft and Uber to my apps
I am wary of strangers
Just last week, I married
Certain we’d grow old together
Instead, we grew apart
Each finding love again
Just last week, two young dogs
Came to be my companions
Today, one is blind
And the big one sleeps all day
Just last week, I grew tomatoes
And three types of lettuce
On my knees in a big garden
Today, I grow lemons on my patio
Aren’t they lovely in my blue bowl?