Between The Lines - Sheila's Guests And Reviews

http://katherinescorner.com

At ten I dreamed

perhaps I'd be

a teen, and double figures not enough

to comfort me.

At twenty, now

I'd learned somehow

those teen years really couldn't be all they're
cracked up to be.

At thirty, married,

kids and harried,

chasing through the years and tears that trucked

and parried me...

At forty life

begins, they said

so leave behind the things, and overhead

the airplane bins

fall open. Fifty,

scared and thrifty.

Coming soon, retirement, nifty dream

I thought, but how?

And sixty's dark desire to live again

won't comfort me.

At ten pm

I guess I'll dream, and then...

I was meant to write a blogpost about how I feel, blogging at that certain (getting ever more certain) age. But then I wrote a poem about how I feel as that certain (scary) age approaches, so I hope that's okay. As to how I feel about blogging, can someone please tell me why hours as well as clothes shrink as the years go by? If there were more or longer hours I promise I'd blog more regularly and even write more books. Instead, like the red queen, I'm running as fast as I can and not quite staying still. How about you?