Once we were special because we were six
six little girls all dressed the same
all funny and noisy and naughty and cute.
Now we are special because we are
six old women all blessed the same
all talky and thinky and lucky and winky
and still THANK YOU GOD alive and thriving
in our seventies and eighties.
How do I dare even think those words
when frailty is overdue
and death is knocking at the house next door?
Before you even read this page
one of the sisters may be dead
but what would I write instead?
Meantime being lively at our stage
in this time of the plentiful unyoung
is not so special, it’s almost a norm
for some lucky ones born in the olden days
of food in the garden and school that was free
and no need for words like “organic”
and two complementary lifestyle rules:
be kind and have adventures.
PS I never know which lines in a poem really work with readers. I only know which lines work for me. Would like to know what you started thinking about…
Image and poem and voice by Rachel McAlpine, CC BY 2.0: that means please do share them, but always attribute them to me. Thanks!