She has written herself off
or so she says
watching youth inherit the mantle
she stares at her own flaccid chest
in unforgiving morning sun
and tries to convince herself to gently let go
light pouring in through the bay window
creating a halo effect in surround
she is bathed in unexpected warmth
her pores absorbing hungrily
that urging intensity, a happy blindness
as if the world paused in its toil
to tap her on the shoulder and whisper
it’s not near over yet girl
go out, gather your arms full
live
live
live!
The Reluctant Poet 