Yesterday,my name was Snidely Green.Today, it's Guardedly Optimistic:Requiring External Validation.My real name is Mama, Mama, Mama!Tomorrow, it will beBellowing My Poems From That Rooftop.My secret nameis Tender RootsQuakingToward a Half-Centuryand WonderingHow I Got Here.
A reprise and gentle re-write of this poem I wrote a few years back, on the advent of my forty-seventh birthday. Ahem.
To quote Shakespeare (poorly) ....
ReplyDeleteA rose by any other name would smell as sweet xoxo
eden
Ah, Tender Roots, very alive and growing by keeping half planted and hidden from the joys of naming your roles in daily life ... this sentence does not have an end, just very positive changes ...
ReplyDeleteI shall also quote Shakespeare (since I am even closer to 5-0 than you are, Gemini-sister):
ReplyDeleteAge shall not wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Enjoy your remaining years in the fab forties - let the fifties take care of themselves.
I. So. Love. This. Poem. Happy Birthday, kiddo. You never looked so good!
ReplyDeleteI love this poem...
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday to you - fifty is the new thirty. Enjoy
Happy Birthday tender roots. It's a grander view from these upper years. And I love this poem and all the names we have.
ReplyDeleteNot too shabby for an older gal... =) LUV U!
ReplyDelete:) thank you!
ReplyDelete