WordPress Prompts – Age
It’s funny she thought to herself, the years have gone by. But have we got any older?
They were still totally recognisable from when they first met. Just a little more grey around the edges and a little heavier but generally well preserved.
Friends made comments from time to time about pictures in attics, reminiscent of Dorian Gray. She had never read the book but had seen the film which she disliked intently. To be likened to that creature was not a compliment even though it was meant to be.
Must she be a witch then for both of them to have remained youthful?
But despite it all, all being what they had gone through, the ill health, the grief and the hardships. It looked as though the cruelty of Mother Nature had left them looking blessed.
Age had not withered them and they were still beautiful to each other. Ageless in each other’s eyes, it was only a number and as the years passed by they celebrated each one as the blessing they had been given for them to enjoy together. Their love had grown over the years, not fuelled by mere lust but a chemical explosion which once combined made them a force of nature. A team who would be by each other’s side, going from strength to strength there through thick and thin. She wondered if another twenty years would go by, whether it would still be the case. Would their looks belie their ages, would it really matter to them then, would they age well then or would they resemble every other person of a similar age. A little old lady and her gentleman. Would their magic still be as strong, would their love remain even if their bodies had not?
Time marches on and only time will tell.
This post was written in 2017, it has languished in my drafts ever since, time to get it out in the open. The stock photo used reminds me of my grandmother’s personality.
Thinking of the Hurly burly,
In my brain when I’m due up early.
No rhymes have come for almost a week,
This is not exactly like counting sheep.
Lay me down again you know,
That this is the moment, it starts to flow.
But by way of recompense,
It kind of makes perfect sense.
The brain is busy, the fever gone
And into my room, the bright moon shone.
Waiting for my head to burst,
As I quench the writers’ thirst.
I will write in present tense,
There is no form of defence.
Emotions out and feeling weak,
No chance for me to even speak.
At the end I must concur,
That the night becomes a blur.
It seems as though it’s been an age,
Since writing words on the blank page.
Lack of sleep, Oh what fun
As often, off my mind will run.
A free spirit, don’t try to tame
As it plays this silly game.
Feelings deep, behind the eyes,
Not the time to criticize.
Rest a while as you lament,
When you suffer this torment.
The lights are out, the room is black,
There really is no turning back.
Your own fault, who lit the fuse,
Don’t hold them back there is no use.
Hope the words will come out right,
When I’m awake half the night.
Feelings will come into play,
If I awake at break of day.
You are listening to the Fleur de Lys,
And how the music is there to please.
Caught up at once in a whirl,
Watching as around she twirls.
Her audience of silver and gold,
Sparkle and glint from days of old.
The box you would buy for a little girl,
As you watch her wonderful life unfurl.
Dressing up pieces for her pleasure.
Are the items she will come to treasure.
Replaced in the box and wind the key,
Poised for the next time you want to see.
Ready to dance you’d see that she did,
After all those years when you lifted the lid.
Spring it open and look what you found,
As she spins around and around.
Her paint is old, her skirt is tattered,
Dressing up jewellery broken and battered
As you open the box, she’ll take to the stage
Despite the fact, she’s showing her age.
Relentless she dances on and on,
The Music box still plays her song.
Around the room, a little girl dances
With grace, she bends and prances
As she listens to the favoured tune,
Head so dizzy she starts to swoon.
As you open it up, surprised to find,
A dancer who stands up there behind,
You wind her up and watch her go,
On her stage to see her show.