I may have a senior railcard
and silver streaks in my hair,
but my fallen leaves rustle and sing
like the dancing leaves of early spring.
No flying south for winter,
I’m no grizzled, dingy skipper
but a quiet blue or marbled white,
gently fanning the paling light.
When I pull on my Dr Marten’s
and jingle my dangly earrings,
swing my woollen-tight-clad legs
beneath my swishy skirt,
I am still a joyful hippy,
sometimes earnest, sometimes dippy,
not afraid to lie down in the dirt
and look up the sky,
and searching for falling stars.
I refuse to grow old
with dignity and grace:
I am a naughty nanna
with a smile upon my face.
Kim M. Russell, 2018
My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver – #163 – Ageing
The Tale Weaver reminds us that last week was International Women’s day and has shared some excerpts from Women of a Certain Age, a collection of women’s memoirs – stories of identity and survival, a celebration of getting older and wiser, and becoming more certain of who you are and where you want to be.
Our challenge is to weave a tale dealing with ageing and what it means to us: whether we are grumpy old men or women, or people who see joy and happiness in what we have and who we are; whether there are obstacles, such as ill health, loss, family matters, grief; whether it is a natural process we fight against or embrace. I’ve written, for me, an unusually light-hearted poem.