I think Iím...

You know,
Itís not much fun,
Getting old.

I stopped bothering
To dye my hair,
Nobody was convinced,
Least of all me.

And the eyebrows!
Oh, the eyebrows!
Where did they go?
They wonít lie down!
Whatís left of them,
That is.
They seem to be
Trying to
Make their last stand:
Like Custer.

And the waistline,
As was.
Baggy tops and elastic.
Now I understand the
Damart catalogue.

Oh yes, the flatties...
Well, stilettos are still
My footwear of choice,
But only in boxes.

To go with them,
Opaque tights
To hide -
You know -
Those veins.

Heavy duty concealers,
I think,
For summer.

All this
Would not be so disturbing
If only the brain
Could catch up
With the
Body.






Poetry by Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 53 times
Written on 2018-05-11 at 09:53

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
Indeed it's no fun growing old and not feeling the years that have gone by much too fast. Enjoying those photographs that we once wanted to hide, and now show the fresh beauty that we were. The mind doesn't grow old, so let's enjoy every moment the way we feel it. A poem that makes us think of the realities we'd rather not.
Ashe
2018-05-13


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
That's the killer. The mind can't seem to absorb the notion that its owner has gotten old.
2018-05-11