Josie Rogers written aged 12 37 Years 37 years from now Shall I still be me? A disjointed version of me, maybe, Awkward and weathered. Starkly unreadable - Or blissfully unaware Glaring back at the sun, or towards the horizon Have I a cottage and a coatful of copper coins... Or perhaps just a perm And a bundle of paperwork Or maybe a grave, gushing into the ground And a sobbing, standby sort of family A picture of maturity - And of maternity, A stumbling, proud mother, say. Will I have memories or perhaps just some ashes, tumbling in the wake of the wind? |
