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The glitter of old age
Alas my greying hair has its own highlights.
Bags under eyes don’t appreciate
sparkles on lashes attracting attention.
Glitter in makeup enhances the sculptured neck
chiselled chin, fresh strawberry lips.
My wattles and pursed mouth prefer something less showy.
I go for the glitter of old age—
The luster of a quiet afternoon with a book.
Scintillation of remembering a name.
Catching the twinkle in the eye of a friend.
Watching the shimmer of children
and recalling the tinsel of my own childhood.
Avoiding the glisten of ice and the sheen of mud.
But I still can’t resist the temptation
of brightening my staid wardrobe
with one or two sequinned tops
and, despite veiny hands,
a bottle of glitter nail polish.
© 2016 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)
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Wonderopolis provided the subject of glitter for this all-too-revealing poem. Adele Kenny’s prompt of AGING together with a poem by Keats suggested the age aspect.
Violet Nesdoly / poems 