When I am an Old Woman
 

I shall wear jeans
With the sweatshirt I wore to every exam
From the year I turned seventeen

I shall stay up late with the cats
That I bred, fed, delivered
And made citizens of this small world

I shall get up early to feed
The chicks and chickens I have kept
In defiance of the past

And I shall rub the neck of the old male donkey
Who guards the turkeys and the guinea fowl

I shall make my way, as always, to the place
I love most
To that warm heavy hay-scented barn,
To the leather-smelling tack room where the feral queen
Jealously guards her kittens

I shall gather a bridle from the wall
Rendezvous with my darling
Who doesn’t mind
We dance through the door, kiss the wind
And depart on a breath before sundown

Through the trees we glide like the ghosts we are
Crest the rise, watch the sun die
And slowly return
Like the ghosts we are

When I am an old woman
I shall wear jeans

And my darling won’t mind

:thumb:
Brilliant, Ortho.

I like that.

When I saw the title of your post, I expected this....

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph

That is going to get me laid tonight. Guaranteed. Baby turned fifty last month, and I've been giving her a hard time (heh, hard time :D) about being old.

That poem is gonna git me some.:yesnod:

Always glad to be of help, Grav. ;)

Ortho, that is a brilliant poem.

What came to mind for me when I read the title was the Michele Shocked song: When I grow up I want to be an old woman.

Thank you ... I'll have to look up that song. :)