Sitting there quietly
A car pulls up.
Two chit and chat
And comment on life.
The one in the car
Asks, "Who drew that."
"Oh, that's from my son."
Then she replies,
"How old are you?
You're too young for that."
"I'm twenty-six now,
And he's six and a quarter."
Then the conversation turned:
Divorce, youth, and hair.
The car drives away
And she sits just there.
She's proud of her life,
Her son, her beauty, her love.
She'd never trade any
Of these things listed above.
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