Author Information
Reading
Forty-five reads well the book of life,
Open somewhere in the muddled middle.
Reading does, of course, allow one space
To putter round the self, at least a little.
Yet yearning cuts through solace like a knife.
For now she is the mother and the wife,
Intensely joyful, rich with hard-earned grace.
Vested in the moment, life’s a riddle;
Eventually, each moment finds its place.
