Turning 50 something

By Susan Adams

 

Racing there with frantic shock

And digging heels to slow the clock.

Packing all the travel in

Before the limbs grind, weak and thin

And terrified of gravity.

 

Disbelieving age can mark

As tree rings toll the ancient bark.

The time spent well, the candle lit

At both ends ‘til the center’s hit

Scared silly of senility.

 

Stillness beckons like a witch

A temptress of the aging bitch.

A voice says “finish up in time,

Before you feel quite past your prime,”

And fearful of futility.

 

Yet still the young girl comes to call

The makeup covers all the flaws

The mirror a friendly gentle wish

The meet the girl, that sexy dish

 

Athugasemdir

[Hrönn Sigurðardóttir, 7.8.2009 kl. 08:37]

Til hamingju með daginn

[www.zordis.com, 7.8.2009 kl. 14:30]

Smjúts með miklum stút!

Æm ðe görl in ðe golden dress ...

[Ásdís Sigurðardóttir, 10.8.2009 kl. 14:05]

Flott ljóð, takk fyrir mig.

[Steinunn Helga Sigurðardóttir, 15.8.2009 kl. 13:49]

takk fyrir þetta kæra kona, laugardagsknús til þín frá mér