Susan's Place Logo

News:

Please be sure to review The Site terms of service, and rules to live by

Main Menu

When I am an old woman...

Started by tinkerbell, March 19, 2009, 07:47:44 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

tinkerbell

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph




tink :icon_chick:
  •  

Hazumu

I'd like to tell you a story about Ginny  She worked as a secretary in the [government agency].

I was talking to her in the hall one day, and noticed she had on purple suede Birkenstocks.  I commented on that, and she told me about the poem.  I looked it up on the internet, and it informed our chance meetings in the hall.  I noticed she wore a lot of purple items -- some times a blouse, sometimes pants or a skirt, sometimes just an accessory.

She said she was living life to its fullest.

She never told me she had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

In fact, she told very few people.

The absences from work started, and then became more frequent.

But when she was at work, she was almost always happy and cheerful.

The news, though, leaked out.  I commented on it.  A pained look crossed her face, and she told me that she did not want sympathy.  I told her that I would not offer it.

We went back to commenting on the purple she wore

And how nice the day was

And how stupid so-and-so had behaved in that meeting

Her last absence went on for two weeks

it ended with the announcement that she had  finally  died.

Thank you, Ginny.  You taught me how to live

Karen
  •  

tinkerbell

I don't blame Ginny. I have never been fond of pity myself, and I wouldn't want it if I were terminally ill either.  Like her, I would also live each day to the fullest until the inevitable happened.  Thanks so much for sharing that story, Karen.


tink :icon_chick:
  •