Me, young, pretty,
Just as witty,
He, already known as the
Great British Bulldog,
Grizzled, bold, and
Ten years my senior.
We wed, and some might’ve thought that
I’d try and change my demeanor
Maybe become a few pounds
Leaner
And shift into a brainless
breeder
But no
It was me, who
worked day and night
Toiling tirelessly
To see the light,
hands cramping as I
wrote so that he would be able to
float.
Him,
Strong,
Eloquent,
A leader,
But if he was strong,
I tagged along,
If he was eloquent,
I was irrelevant
And if he was a leader,
I was only meager in comparison to
My great, old speaker.
One war and then another,
The wail of sirens and the
Boom, boom, boom
Of bombs became
A constant companion, much like me.
I threw myself into work,
Became
Chairwoman of the
Red Cross Aid to Russia Fund
President to the
Young Woman’s Christian Association
Was awarded the
Order of the Red Banner of Labour
And became a Dame.
Which was such a nice little claim to
Fame.
Still, my Pug he was,
And his Cat I remained,
Throughout the
Thick,
And the
Thin
And the many, many,
Conflicts,
That we couldn’t
predict
Till at last,
He fell,
My pug.
But for
Me
I wasn’t
done,
I learned,
and I
read,
I
pushed myself
to speak up
And
to
talk louder,
dream big,
And gain some power
After all,
As Winston liked to say,
“We Must Never Surrender.”
– Sophia
Elements Magazine 