Not mine
Times I think of her
Up there in that second
Mountain home
Alone with family
I think
This could have been mine
The walks in the cool morning
Stops in shops for antiques
But she did not want this for me
She was rather insistent
Upon not sharing it with one
Who stayed home
Never went with her
Always chasing after him
Expecting someday he’d reform
Oh maybe when I’m eighty
She will have pity
And admit
I wish you’d been mine
From the fourth grade on.
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