The Inconvenience
She said she was leaving
The job was too much
For the Doctors diagnosed a life of permanent pain
They sat looking at her, with “well what about us”
Thinking only of the inconvenience
Are you sure you can’t stay?
The job’s not that hard!
Then!
With the odd “poor Consuelo”
Thrown in for good measure
A token acknowledgement
Of her pain.
MJPonte
Maria José Ponte 