It is wrinkles. It is cellulite. It is a life that’s passing by.
It is age spots. It is scars.It is me and it’s all mine.
It’s remembering the whole truth.I’m not twenty, not thirty-three.
It’s looking at myself now. Being proud of what I see.
But what else do I see? With this body that I own.
What else is underlying? In this mass of skin and bone.
I am a sentimental person. That, I’ve always been.
Sometimes I get forgetful. Where I go and what I’ve seen.
My medical history long and it’s complicated too.
Cowdens Syndrome is the new thing.That, I have to work through.
The vision is a mess. Has been for many years.
Glasses since the age of three. Without them, nothings clear.
I’m quiet, but I’m happy. I am an introvert.
I’m not one for a party. Prefer a good book and dessert.
51 is coming now. Along on Christmas Day.
That quiet, introverted me. Will be in the kitchen, so make way.
I’m proud that I can stand here. I’m proud of who I am.
I’m proud of what I’ve done in life. I love everything I have.
I wish Mark were standing with me. I wish Mum was right here too.
I miss those who left too early. Those that left way too soon.
My life at 50s mine now. To do with as I please.
My life now as a writer. This life, I feel at ease.
So 51 can visit me upon this Christmas Day.
I’m proud I’m in my fifties as I hit the next birthday.
