Every morning
I am awakened by the redness of the sky
it burns me
even through the thick blanket that my mother gave me
summer is a deep
a lazy
and an angry
something I cannot get a hold of
it slips out of my hands
like a dream once you've woken up
like your shadow in a grocery store
like a love
a love you think is eternal
and will transcend all time
and power
and worlds
until
you realize he is fading
and you can no longer see his face
you can only make out
his hands
When I am old
When I am old
I will read Poe and listen to bagpipes
when I am old
I will let my hair flow free and wild
when I am old
I will let the sound of the ocean put me to sleep
when I am old
I will live alone with three dogs
when I am old
I will go barefoot
when I am old
I will eat pumpkin pie for breakfast
when I am old
I will walk to the fields and pick wildflowers
when I am old
I will make daisy chains
when I am old
I will have a pottery shop
when I am old
I will live by myself
when I am old
I will play Mozart on my violin
when I am old
I will wear blue dresses
when I am old
I will count the stars every night
when I am old
I will play rummy with my grandkids
when I am old
I will smile
when I am old
I will live a beautiful existence
Poem © 2002 Elizabeth Tracy, all rights reserved
