She doesn’t give two hoots
about being who she’s not.
It’s taken her a while to get there,
seven decades to be exact.
Wrinkle creams and hair dye be damned.
She wears flat shoes on every occasion,
air-dries her hair in all its grey glory
and orders dessert, which is mandatory.
Happily sleeveless when it’s hot,
just stare if you dare at her crepe-like skin
and notice her knees with those very high hems.
Stereotypical sayings are bantered about,
she’s older and wiser and been round the block
but look at her now as she picks her own route.
Written for NAPOWRIMO, Day 15.
Today we’re asked to “write a poem about something you have absolutely no interest in.”
We’re invited “to investigate some of the ‘why’ behind resolutely not giving two hoots about something.”
Although my poem is written in third person, this is how I feel at seventy-five.