Saturday, January 2, 2010

When I Am Grown

When I am grown,

or “mature” I will be the

woman with graying hair,

and a smile of photons

racing to reach your eyes.

Something magical in

my face that will keep gleaming

until death removes me

from the restraints of my

body.

I will be the woman who

have seen enough to become

an idea. I will sit on the

beached drift wood all day

and drink good vodka. I will

write poems about becoming

a real adult.

When I am old and grey,

when my hands show wear

and the skin around my eyes

serves as evidence of a youth

spent laughing; then I will

watch the sunrise in the summer.

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