NaPoWriMo 29 GloPoWriMo 29
Things that I miss through one or more objective correlative. This poem is about ageing, the absence of youth and the bewilderment associated with this loss.   The hands of the clock move A distinctive heart beat A never ending rhythm that thrums Ploughing through the years A mirror that watches-A child’s first discovery of herself Her self conscious little antics Later her dance, her speech practice Her changing wardrobe Her fears, joys, triumphs Her marriage, childbirth, travails Silver hair framing an anguish ridden face.  The spectacles that first came to rest on her nose Now a constant companion (except when asleep of course)The are missed often although they rest upon her crow. The little girl cannot recall how she Got here- an old, withered shadow Of her charming, lively, childhood self.