It was the Playing Safe <br />there in her mirror <br />the terrible sameness <br />of her life <br />her routines <br />her husband <br />her friends <br />her lovely children <br />her home <br />all there in place <br />yet her soul <br />did not feel fed <br />aching regrets <br />lingered there <br />unknown regrets <br />because of what <br />had not happened to her <br />was unknown to her <br />she had no idea <br />what that would be <br />yet she ached <br />for something to happen <br />to her. <br />In college <br />she had stories to tell <br />adventures to relate <br />to friends. <br />For years now <br />she had nothing but <br />baby stories <br />work stories <br />husband stories <br />sort of the Loneliness <br />of Routine <br />of a sense of time passing <br />and just ahead <br />she sensed <br />she would be at that edge <br />when nothing would ever change <br />she could see that in the mirror <br />she could see the Passage of Time there <br />the Hard Lines growing <br />the gentle thickness <br />in the wrong places <br />the sense of a downward slope <br />of a grinding boredom <br />oncoming <br />inevitable <br />and innervating <br />to where she <br />could she herself <br />gradually <br />turning into her mother <br />old <br />energyless <br />disappointed in how her life <br />turned out <br />pushing her daughters <br />to end up better <br />than she had <br />obsessed with her garden. <br /> <br />She decided <br />she would have an affair.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/playing-safe-2/
