A country girl, a sheltered life. Met and married a city boy, recently discharged after four years of naval duty in World War II. I was molded to another's perfection. Years passed, children grew, all the while my walls were cracking. I longed to be loved for who I was. Who was I? Would be more freedom than I had had. A test, an escape, maybe therapy of my own, searching for the correct words to match my entangled feelings. Now, 83 years old, a box of tattered, torn, scraps of yellowed pages I find. Penciled verses barely visible, some too faint to revive. Thus, the verses. Born and raised on a farm, in the soft, rolling hills of the countryside near the small country town of Rockville, Maryland. Four miles, as the crow flies, from the Potomac River and the cross roads of Potomac, Maryland-now a city. I graduated from high school, worked in one of two banks in town until I was married. Became a homemaker while married, then a personnel technician in an Adventist hospital in...

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