I got old much sooner than I
expected.
Age had crossed my mind, but that
thought I’d rejected!
I meant to grow roses, the talk of
the town,
Be presented at Court in a white
satin gown,
Sing in Carnegie Hall, take a bow at
the Met,
Preach to the lost in Shanghai or
Tibet.
Meant to rock the grandchildren more—sew
for them too,
Make little girls’ dresses
embroidered in blue,
Do needlework, housework, and make
it seem play,
Lose weight, get a face lift—model
with clay.
Meant to work with ceramics, make
chickens and frogs,
Roll all my newspapers into neat
fireplace logs.
Meant to ride on a jet ski—go
diving for pearls,
And fly across oceans to exotic new
worlds.
Those far away places whose names I
can’t say
Are forever calling by night and by
day.
I got old so much sooner than I had
expected
Age had crossed my mind, but that
thought I’d rejected.
I will
not get old (or at least I’ll pretend)
For deep down inside me my youth
will not end!
