Image by Pixabay.com

Leaves…

Gold leaves of autumn drift by my window

Caught by the breeze, dancing happy butterflies.

I watch them fall like lace on my windowsill.

Winters calling cards, our earth drifting into sleep

New growth will murmur beneath this sleeping giant

I have heard it called a blue marble

It reminds me of my childhood.

In my golden years, or so I am told

But my mind feels half my age.

I wonder sometimes if my mind will ever

Catch up with my 72-year-old body.

I seem to have passed this gene onto my children.

I remember my daughter at twenty

Turned away from the cinema, a film for 18-year-olds.

With no way to prove her age, she came home distraught

I told her she would love it in later years.

Would that the body would remain in this state.

I hate my stairs, they remind me I am no Peter Pan

It is all in my head…

©Anita Dawes