By Robina Rader
Penelope was here again yesterday;
we had a lovely time –
Penelope and Penelope.
We reminisced about our childhood,
school days, and old friends
who never knew we were us.
There was another Penelope;
she disappeared after our husband died.
Poor Penelope. She was crushed.
We had to let her go, but
Penelope and I miss her sometimes;
we were thinking of her yesterday.
Now there are noises in the hall;
it’s time to go to lunch.
We shall pull myself together
and try to remember we must be I
for now.
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“I write to express facets of personality not easy to articulate in other ways.” – the writer