CRITICAL

She saw life as long parade
Of tawdriest taste and kind.
She thought that made her renegade;
I wasn’t so inclined.
She refused to march along,
But always stayed the route,
Mocking every band, float, song
As if she could refute
All meanness, mediocrity
By her disapprobation.
I’d ask her (condescendingly)
“Who granted your high station?” 

She’d always smile, took no offense,
Seemed to think it fair
For me to mock her vehemence.
But with time she didn’t share
So much of all that finding fault,
Leaving me to wonder
If world had lessened its assault
On her, or if I’d blundered
And made her lose the confidence
To say what disappointed.
I realized with what impudence
I had self-anointed,
To chide her giving full expression
To faults I also see.
She taught me, but too late, a lesson:
Those flaws she saw within herself, and just as much in me.

Written February 4, 2023
©2023 Lawrence Helms