Old Lady
402. 26 May 2023
Image by Chinh Le from Pixabay
Some how I seem to have acquired
The body of an old woman, always tired,
Always in thrall to her back, groaning,
Shuffling along, sitting carefully, moaning.
I’m not that old. Barely sixty-five!
And in my head I’m ten and at my peak,
No puberty, no tits, I can speak
And sing and climb trees and read
And run and run, not at speed
But fast enough for me.
*
Death is sure. I’ve known since I was five.
My grandmother told me: “There’s one thing
We know about every baby that’s born.
What d’ye think it is?”
I couldn’t think. He’ll have hair? He’ll be naughty?
“He’s going to die one day, maybe later,
Maybe sooner.”
This was news to me. I had no idea.
What? Die? Be dead and not come back?
Impossible! Outrageous!
It obviously didn’t apply to me!
“Yes, you too,” said grandmother.
***