At 75

For a long time Maybe for years Or maybe decades. She thought she had lived. For a dime. Maybe less. Or maybe none. She thought she had worked. For a minute. Maybe for days. Or maybe weeks. She thought she had laughed. And finally for a while. Maybe for years. Or maybe every day. She thought she had loved. At 75, she wobbled She reminisced. She realised. She wept bitterly, she hadn’t. She had watched. The doors close, did nothing She could have picked a lock. Turned around looked for another. She had toiled. Been abused, did nothing. She could have quit. Turned around and done her own. She had laughed. At herself, she was told so. She could have stayed grounded. Turned around and took control. She had loved. Loved an alcoholic an abuser. Bared unloved children, she could have left. Turned around and loved herself. She had. Lived for other people. Yes, she had. © Herzel Poshiwa