I wore a red dress today,
hesitated on my lipstick… too bold?
Thought, “When did my wardrobe
become boring? When did my lips
become pale?"
Limitations loom large.
Ponder the fact:
Goals aren’t necessarily dreams,
nor life’s path, aspirations.
Step outside in sensible shoes,
remember when I owned
more stilettos than flats. The sun is warm.
Honeybee, whom shouldn’t be able to fly,
buzzes about (didn’t get the memo),
importance just shy of water and air.
Realize I need to regrow a new “old me”,
hang on to my core, release “outgrown”,
contemplate mystical and magical,
question behavior and belief,
shed skin like Gecko,
whose pretty green darts before me.
His path crisscrosses with Butterfly,
ultimate sign of grace, of lightness,
of life’s continuous unfolding.
Youngest son once asked
if turtles smell flowers. “Why not?”,
I answered. “Just because we haven’t seen it,
doesn’t make it so.”
Repetitious days have made me forget
I’m strong. Even bold. January first
isn’t the only day for resolutions.
Went back inside to don a red cap
to match my lipstick, and smile,
as I’m the only one to know,
red panties to match.
By Margaret Bednar, April 30, 2020
This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Friday Writings #24". It has been MONTHS since I last wrote poetry and it feels so good. I also created the mixed-media collage which goes along with this poem. i can't wait to sip morning coffee this Saturday morning and read all the incredible poems you all have written.
