What is 50?

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.