(Image found here)
When I grow old, really old,
I shall be eccentrik.
I shall wear long silken skirts
that sweep in the dust
and keep Abyssinian cats.
I shall speak clearly to the cats, of course,
but to other people I shall speak
only in symbols, codes and cryptograms,
and let them think
that they understand.
I shan’t knit.
My garden will be wild and rich, and
I shall plant tall stones
in suitable places. I shall make
potions of flowers and light,
and I shall keep bees.
With my knobby old knees
and sagging breasts, I shall
dance naked under the Moon,
and I shall sing to Her
with the cats.
I shall carry a blackthorn stick,
and frighten small boys away from my apples -
they’ll like that —
and I’ll tell tales of the goddess
to small girls so they will know who they are.
I shall say outrageous true things
to people, anyone at all,
and make waterfalls and small pools
in wild places.
I shall have a deep, deep well of silence
in myself, and it will fill
with the love flowing through me
like a wild underground river. My hair
will be very white and unmanageable -
rather like a dandelion. My roots
will grow to the heart
of the Earth, and the horned god
will be a personal friend of mine.
I am longing for waterfalls. And I'm on my way to the white, very white hair, a strand at a time.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem.
My hair is already so white, white and white - and I'm letting it grow, like the unmanageable dandelion. It should be a quite a sight when it's finally grown out!
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