“When I grow old, ” said my mother, “I’ll change my life. <br />I’ll rent a garret on the Left Bank of the Seine <br />in Paris, give up being a mother and a wife, <br />spend my days painting, drink red wine all night, <br /> my friends will be artists - maybe I’ll write. <br /> <br />“But what about Dad? ” I objected. <br />My mother reflected. <br />“He’ll be okay, ” she said. <br />“He’ll buy a djellabi, sandals, a scarab <br />and live in the desert, along with the Arabs. <br />He’s learning the lingo at evening class. <br />He’ll go over to Gaza” – I thought, what a gas! <br /> <br />I’d spend April in Paris, winter with Dad – <br />there was going to be some fun to be had! <br />I hoped that my parents’ dreams all would come true – <br />but after all that they just moved down to Bude!<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-mother-retirement-plans/
