With half an eye
To a handsome face…
Rugged, smooth
Or touched with grace…
Or a pretty dress
I’d love to wear,
A pair of heels,
A style of hair…
I’m seventeen
Or twenty three
…Or would have been
Were I still there.
With jaded eye
I read the news
Of wars,
And ecomonic blues;
Initiatives
That come too late
To halt the conflict
Stop the hate;
I’ve seen it all…
The cyclic fear
That dogs our footsteps
Every year.
I’m ninety-two..
…a century…
Or might have been
Or soon will be.
Eyes of a child
Look out of mine,
And see the lover
Pour the wine,
And see the hand
That takes the glass
All ages as
The moments pass.
Alight with laughter
Washed by tears,
A childlike gaze
Ignores the years
And wears her heart
Upon her sleeve,
And still
The unrepentant Eve
Looks out upon
A changing world
Through eyes of woman,
Mother, girl.
As timeless
As the inner flame,
And ageless,
As without a name,
It is not bound
By passing years
Nor by the sorrows,
Joys and tears.
Eyes of child
Look out on life,
Infant, girl,
And later, wife.
Mother, lover,
Sister, friend;
Turning seasons
Without end
That will remain
Alive inside,
In spite of what
The wrinkles hide.
For I am all
And all are me,
The who I was, and am,
Will be.
All occupy
The inner space
Regardless
Of a changing face.
