Most elderly ladies
shine under a straw sunhat.
At the arboretum,
sitting under an Ash tree
(the same Ash
that she had sex under,
when she was old enough
to know better).
She leans back
on the scaled trunk
smiling at George,
who is not at all dead to her,
nor Harry, or Jim,
but at this moment
she is content to tuck them all
under her skirt
like a mother hen,
To smile
at the youngsters that pass-by
believing they know
anything about love.
Categories:
sunhat, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
When did these bones
Sigh
With weariness of movement
Was it when I tied my hair in a bun
Started wearing a sunhat
Or watching
Girls starting to work where I work
Beginning
First job
Juxtaposed against my 33 plus years
I am ambivalent about these creeping
Years
Softly
Stepping by with a sunset in the distance looming
I am grooming
Myself for
Time in which to lie back with my hands behind my head
Capture
Thoughts as they go by like clouds
Unattached but interested
This aging is somehow elusive to me.
Categories:
sunhat, life
Form: Free verse