Her Story

This month marks the centennial anniversary of the 19th Amendment being ratified, giving women the right to vote in the United States. I'm working on a blog post about this and hope to share it in a couple of days. The following is a poem I wrote recently. The words came to me quickly and it reads like song lyrics I think. The photo is a painting in progress, too. While I still have quite a bit more to do it, any amount of painting I can do is something I'm proud of due to some history I've shared here in past posts. Acrylic on canvas. As always, thanks for reading. Also, as always, copyright applies.


Her Story 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson 
©Veronica Randolph Batterson 2020

Driving down that dirt road 
Taking her back…to football games, high school dances 
In her memories 
Tried to fit in, now she feels so old. 

Where’d time go? 
Scraped knees, mud pies and fireflies
Learning to drive 
How is she ancient…wasn’t it yesterday when she turned eighteen? 

He said he missed her, she said it was a rebound 
He said he loved her, she said find another 
He said it meant nothing…she said it meant everything 
It meant everything. 

Riding bicycles in the rain 
Running through puddles 
He shared his umbrella and said be mine 
She said that’s fine…it was so fine. 

It’s her story but his is different 
She showed him…told him 
He didn’t see it or hear her 
He never did…no, he never would. 

He said he missed her, she said it was a rebound 
He said he loved her, she said find another 
He said it meant nothing…she said it meant everything 
It meant everything. 

She’s 21, and 39, and just turned 50 
Makes no difference when his story is the same 
And her story is full of pain…again 
All because of his story…always his story. 

Blue jeans and cowboy boots 
Sitting on the front porch 
His eyes wandered to the nearest scent while she talked to him 
Testing the waters and jumping the fence…while she waited…always waiting. 

He said he missed her, she said it was a rebound 
He said he loved her, she said find another 
He said it meant nothing…she said it meant everything 
It meant everything. 

Those magical nights under the stars 
Stolen kisses and hidden smiles 
She cooked his dinners and laughed at his jokes 
Even when they weren’t funny. 

Then he left and never said goodbye 
She packed up too and moved away 
He went through that revolving door…and didn’t believe in karma 
She wondered if he did now. 

He said he missed her, she said it was a rebound 
He said he loved her, she said find another 
He said it meant nothing…she said it meant everything 
It meant everything. 

It’s her story…but his is different 
She showed him…told him 
He didn’t see it or hear her 
He never did…no, he never would.

©Veronica Randolph Batterson 2020