Who is this old woman I have to live with now?

All my previous life I’ve lived with myself,

Not always comfortably I admit,

Still we got along.

 

You see we shared the same habits, myself and I.

For instance – we both thought and moved fast.

This stranger uses a stick – creeps along,

Drops things, can’t pick them up.

Slow at picking up a point too.

I lose my patience with her.

 

Myself and I would work, play and sleep at nights

After crammed days. She sits and sits.

Kind people say,

‘I’ll come and see you soon dear’.

‘Isn’t she wonderful’ they say.

I don’t think so. Sometimes I think…

Well, you know what I mean!

(Others think so too,

Otherwise they wouldn’t be so kind to the old thing.)

The worst of it is, it seems I’m stuck with her.

God knows how I’ll manage,

But as he knows, perhaps he’ll see to it.

 

Katharine Moore, 1983