Beth Mead, in “Comes Grace,” which I saw published on @eastridgereview on July 28, restores my faith in people who understand aging. I haven’t had children, as the poetic character in her poem has, but the frustrations which one at an advanced age expects others now to take their turns with and leave you in peace about are often the same, for women (and even men), with or without children. The specifics she in sparing but touching words, even funny, tragic words, associates with getting older could even be appreciated by younger people of an empathetic turn. Well done, Beth!
The Wombwell Rainbow 
Beth Mead, in “Comes Grace,” which I saw published on @eastridgereview on July 28, restores my faith in people who understand aging. I haven’t had children, as the poetic character in her poem has, but the frustrations which one at an advanced age expects others now to take their turns with and leave you in peace about are often the same, for women (and even men), with or without children. The specifics she in sparing but touching words, even funny, tragic words, associates with getting older could even be appreciated by younger people of an empathetic turn. Well done, Beth!