Try Again Another Day

Why doesn’t she talk

As I stand at her bedroom door

She pretends to watch t.v.

So she can pretend she doesn’t see me

Nothing to do but walk away

And try again another day

Why doesn’t she say something

As I wait for her to come home

But when she arrives

She walks right by

Not even a glance my way

So I’ll try again another day

Why doesn’t she speak

As I sit behind her in the car

I use the mirror to get her attention

She just ignores my reflection

No heed to me does she pay

I guess I’ll try again another day

Why does she expect me to be civil

Now that I’m an adult and living without her

When I tried to come to her for advice

She disregarded me without blinking twice

Ask her and she’ll deny ever being that way

I got tired of trying again another day

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6 thoughts on “Try Again Another Day

  1. even though i knew what the poem was about… my first impression of it wasn’t that of a mother child relationship… it actually could appear that u took on the persona of someone trying to communicate with u.

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    • That’s an interesting way to look at it. To be honest, when re-reading the poem and thinking that way, it kind of does seem that’s what’s going on. It could go either way. Keen eye Ms Fierce.

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  2. Why is it, and I’m speaking as a child of the old skool parent (raised in the sixties), didn’t realize our children just wanted to communicate with us? Instead we told them to be quiet , and go sit down and watch tv, speak when you’re spoken to, or go to your room, I’m busy. When I got older, there was nothing I wanted to say to my dad, (he’s the one who raised me) and he would try and talk to me, but by then I was too busy. I like this poem because it hits so close to home and it offers a reminder of how I tried to talk to my children and hear whatever it was they had to say, sometimes I didn’t because of how I grew up, but I would say that I have a better communication relationship with my children than I did with my dad.

    AWESOME POEM! (2 Thumbs Up)

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    • I totally understand what you mean. I was blessed to have both parents throughout my life, but the communication was never there. Both grew up in the fifties and I wasn’t born til the eighties, so you could just imagine. My dad could sit in the house all day and you wouldn’t realize he was there. My mother had this refusal to communicate. When it comes to my children I talk to them about everything I possibly can so they never feel alone. I dealt with a lot of situations alone where I should have had some sort of guidance, and as a result made some awful choices.

      I’m glad you could relate to this poem and I’m happy you enjoyed it.

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