The Motherer [Poetry]

Sometimes, you just don’t know what to say. The underlying fear is, you’ll drive them away.

The knowledge you’ve gathered over a lifetime, Means little, or nothing, on their timeline.

If you spew what you believe is sage advice, They might respond with an air cold as ice.

You implore them to value this one true life, To gather strength from the struggle, and savvy from strife.

But they’re not buyin’ it, not one bit. You don’t see what they see, from where you sit.

Your collected experiences are currently archaic. They look to The Cloud for their intel mosaic.

For pixels of wisdom they turn to podcasts, Instagrams, blogs, or twitter blasts.

So what am I still needed for? Besides a quiet sounding board?

Where has my warm connection gone? My voice, my heart, my life’s song?

Written by P.B. Milone


45 Magazine Women’s Journal is accepting submissions from women AND men! Click HERE to submit.

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