Menopause

Menopause

Why am I always hot?
My emotions jump
like a TV remote,
changing channels
without rhyme or reason.

She stops—
asks the question:

Who is that woman
staring back at me?

Unknown, yet still familiar.

Her weary eyes
return my gaze.

She wears a silver crown,
resting proudly
upon her head.

Her changing waist
gradually appears,
as a few more pounds
begin to grace her middle,
almost unnoticed.

Wrinkles crease my face,
mapping the journey
of a life well-lived,
and adventures yet to come.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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