April 2 - National Poetry Month - prompt Aging
Old lady - when did I first think I was old?
Around twelve perhaps..old enough
to have little jobs, pay bills, support;
and then twenty one - married, pregnant,
grown up, responsible, and somehow not.
Forty-eight and widowed that was the point.
I would never be older than that.
I find that aging since that event, I've stretched
toward innocence. I know others try to
remain young, bawdy, sinful; but it's
easier to revert to an innocence of childhood
with calm thoughts, diligence, and an
aim toward kindness and altruism.
Flowers and children's voices touch me
but I seek the narrow path - a walk to the sea,
a stroll in a park, sewing a garment, mending
a tear, watching a sunset, preparing a meal.
Simple things bring pleasure. The appreciation
of excellence thrills but the need to exceed
one's current state diminishes. Satisfaction's
found in still being both able and capable.