After reading my grandmother's journal, I decided to write this. The first line is an excerpt from the journal text.
"The impressions and feelings of one Annie Boryk Korba, to alleviate the many moments of loneliness"
Her perfume still lingers upon the page
Graceful scrawl with the flavor of wit
Tells the tale of a woman deprived
Craving to stand but forced to sit
Dreams too grand for her social stature
For the times, her hopes were too vast
Aspirations for the future had soured
So she turned her thoughts to the past
Her husband a traveling salesman
Forgotten, ten months of the year
And she, left at home with the children
Had to raise them upon contrived cheer
Though her years were numerous
To her each day was a dull game
For, when dreaming of fame and legend
Playing housewife just isn't the same
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