Ode to being Old by Vea Anna Hooker
I used to be young, but now am old.
This usually happens, or so I’ve been told.
Where now I am cautious, I used to be bold.
What I used to set free, now close I hold.
I used to let it ride, now I choose to fold.
Since passing through menopause, I am never cold.
For my opinion, I am often polled.
If I were a ship, I’d be the kind rowed.
When I was made, they broke the mold,
And now I’m an antique, just fit to be sold.
