I STILL AM:

You tell me I am old, that I´m wrinkled, flabby & lined,

You´re right, but I still love to be wined, wooed & dined,

You tell me I should cover my breasts that droop & sag,

But I shall not be covering them up in a shapeless bag.

You say my old arms are not fit to be bared to new morn,

Upon them I shall place pretty bracelets, gaudily adorned,

You tell me my neck´s a wreck, not pretty & soft anymore,

Around it, beads & flowers I´ll wrap, then walk out the door.

You tell me my fingers are claws now, talons & skinny bone,

Then I´ll wear big stoned rings & nails painted in vibrant tone,

You tell me my sparse hair is now thin, straggling & going grey,

Then I shall wear hats of exotic feathers & pretty floral nosegay.

You tell me that I´m going deaf & my old ears now don’t hear,

And that my dimmed eyes are rheumy & always dripping a tear,

So I´ll wear fancy dark glasses & big earrings from my old lobes,

In garishly vibrant bright colours to match my shoes & loud robes.

You tell me my legs are wobbly & say my old feet now don´t work,

But I can still walk in forests of bluebells, even with a gait that jerks,

You tell me my voice is now croaky, to stay silent & not to be heard,

But I still remember old songs & can sing along together with birds.

I may be as old as you say, but I´m still very much alive & still here,

I still enjoy life to the full, but now know how to do it with no fear,

And with each new morn that appears, I know that here I still am,

I´ll not hide & I´ll be espied & if you don´t like it, I don´t give a damn.