“And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball”
© Janis Ian, 1975
At 17, I was like Janis Ian’s song
the name not called for basketball
the mince pie left upon the plate
the one stood up on a blind date.
At 27, I ambled on adrift
sauntering tryst to tryst
waiting for Prince Charming’s kiss
lost with Morgaine in Avalon’s magic mist.
At 37, quite dejected,
career in tatters, Unperfected
lovers lost to better others:
never to become a mother.
At 47 am reinvented
I let the pass die unlamented
forgot the emptying mobile phone
forgot the lunches twice postponed.
At 57 I’d faced my greatest fears
said farewell to angst in Algiers,
found a world that welcomes smiling faces
that ageless beauty Time embraces
a 67 more content than ever
a vibrant spirit never bent, never severed
an inner strength that does not depend
on the transience of so called friends.
© Sheila Ash, 2018
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