When I Was Forty Years Old

When I was thirty-eight years old, my mum told me,
"Go out and get yourself some friends before it's too late."
Once I was forty year's old,
She became my best mate.

I set my goals, that wouldn't allow myself to fail,
So I started to believe in life, and started writing stories.
Travelled around the coast,
Came back home, mum was frail.

It was a big world, trying to hold on.
People pushing each other around to their limits,
Remembering all the good things and 
hoping my life becomes a better one.

Soon I'll be fifty years old. I'm still learning about my life,
I brought a woman home to meet my mum
So I can read my poetry, and share the stories.
She asked if she could be my wife
and one day I can share the tales,
Some I had to leave behind. After hurt tried to seek details.

Once I reach fifty years old.
Will I still have those stories to unfold,
it's not far away. But the pages could be roar being told.

I'm still learning about the woman.
The woman who will do anything for me,
She sings to me like a proper human.
Hoping things will turn out good over a cup of tea.

I always wanted to have that dream before dad passed,
Only wished he'd got to read my piece of verse,
Before the evening sun, when life was taken.
A sad sigh honours his hearse.

Copyright © Yvonne Livingstone Kania | Year Posted 2022

Please Login to post a comment