What did it matter—
all the chatter, pitter patter,
reverberating dimensions of change,
echoes from the otherworld?

Here I listen to their keyed up conversation
on cue, 1-2, 1-2, bro banter
about the poor beleagured woman
made to be a whore

They know nothing of her true strength
even if they come close 
as in this age 
we turn the page.

Nobody even needs to speak.
In silence all is known.

We turn the page
in our old age
having drifted so far away.
They know nothing of her true strength

Carved down to her core
a fiercely independent woman,
on cue 2-3, 2-3, turn, canter.
Here I listen to their keyed up conversation—

Echoes from the otherworld
reverberating dimensions of change
and all the chatter, pitter patter—
what did it matter?