She often speaks of love
But what of the ador
She owes her own
Seasoned body and soul
The extraordinary simplicity
Of a moment
When conceding to her age
Becomes a gift and not a crime
When clock-stopping
Loses its baby-soft appeal
When big browns snagging
On those department store panes
Fail to spur misadventures
In self-upgrading
When ‘girl’ rings true
To a past she outgrew
And the woman at hand
Is the queen who shines
Despite abs that no longer behave
In a concave way
Her wash-n-go coif
And Mom Squad garb
Agreeable garnishes
To a half-century (just two years shy)
Worn under her eyes
Like a badge of honor
Because this is a life
She has truly lived
Copyright © S. A. Healey
