Virginia Wylie: Ditzy

I overheard enough of this conversation to make a poem; I got a kick out of.

 

They sat upon the porch in shade

Those sweet old girls

With bouncing bobbing silver curls

Vodka laced their lemonade.

 

“As e’er we were we are the same

Now we purely hate to hear

Young lady, honey, dear

Lest some forget we have a name

And all that silly baby talk

Pat us on our heads, we balk

Shall we bow up, complain, nay.

 

“Youth wants favors from dear ma’am?

We’ll veer off vague, perhaps

From a handy memory lapse

Do they catch us in some jam?

We’ll open pale wide eyes

And tell them bald-faced lies

They brought on themselves this sham.”

 

Anne, Maude, and Mitzy

Thought to have fun that day

Youth had fairly begged to play

Their special game called Ditzy.

 

Virginia L. Wylie



Virginia resides in Brookdale Orange City, Florida and is the author of the poetry that appears here. The views and opinions expressed in this poetry are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Brookdale Senior Living.

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