This poem isn't
about childhood -
fleet-footed, hair flying;
Or about school days
books, teachers and homework
plaits and ribbons and uniforms
and pranks;
Or about teenage and first love
and first heartbreak
and the horrific pimple outbreak;
Or about true love
marriage
children
grey hair, falling teeth
grandchildren
and the growing medicine cabinet;
Or about a million small and big things
that go to make up a life well lived....
This poem is about
an old woman
reminiscing.
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