The New Me

I lost my work ID a while back. I waited a while to replace it, figuring, as with most things I’ve lost, that I just misplaced it and it will show up sooner or later. Well it didn’t. So I found the nice women in the bowels of the building who would give me a new ID. With the new technology available, she still had my photo in her computer, but it was from 10-15 years ago, so she politely suggested I get a new one taken. (I just didn’t look the same) eek! I am not photogenic. So here’s what I think about my new ID – in honor of national poetry month.

My Eyes of Blue

Where did I go, that me of minus ten?

The hair is there, but now devoid of Miss Clairol.

The face reveals a map of the road

I’ve taken these years a plenty.

My neck, oh dread,

hints of Grandmothers gone by.

But my eyes,

my eyes are still blue

and quietly speak of the girl

who still lingers there.

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Published in: on April 15, 2011 at 11:26pm04  Comments (5)  
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5 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Lovely poem!

  2. Thank you.
    You inspired me, actually!

  3. Really? Thank you, that’s an honour.

  4. Funny how when we take a picture we are froze in time. I remebered a picture I saw of myself 40 years ago.Winter coat and hat.Playing in the snow.If I could talk to that girl what would I say?What advice would I give her?
    I sat and had a good cry and yes had a pitty party at a table for one.Then I smiled and went to clean the kitchen.Then I want a hot bubble bath.
    Thank you for reminding me that Yes I have changed also and yet my eyes are still blue.I have survived being a widow.Raised 2 awesome children and beat cancer.May not be a beauty on the outside as far as I can see.I know what I would tell that girl in that photo.Nothing.I know her too well and she wouldn’t have listen to a word I would have said anyway. 🙂

    Thanks I needed the poem and this more than you will ever know.You have a new fan!!!

    Debra

    • Sounds like you’ve had your share. But isn’t it funny how little we really change, inside I mean.
      We grow, we learn, hopefully we gain some peace and are better people for it all, but I still “feel”
      like a twenty something, even though my body is not.
      I said something to this effect to an 80 something friend the other day, and she said that she does feel old.
      Maybe when I’m 80 I’ll feel old, but not now, even at 50 and without Miss Clairol!


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