Old is Beautiful

Despite the big tummy and hips,

despite the saggy tits,

despite the increasing wrinkles,

I am beautiful!

Everyone says so.

I post my photos on facebook,

carefully chosen of course

but still revealing I’m aged,

and compliments proliferate.

It’s a satisfying feeling.

When I was young,

I was the un-beautiful girl,

wallflower at dances.

(Or was that for the two left feet

and being too shy to talk?)

Anyway, I was never going to be

a Playboy centrefold,

and the boys never swarmed, buzzing.

I’m not sure how I scored

the three husbands, all the lovers.

But now I’m beautiful.

It’s a proven fact.

And when I walk down the street

or into the shops,

people smile and call me darling.

At nearly 75, finally

I made it. I think it must be

because I’m a witch. I prayed —

no, not to the Devil, you fool.

He doesn’t exist. The Devil’s a myth.

But when I was young

and felt the lack,

I prayed hard for beauty.

And kept on praying. Now

here it is! The Goddess is good.

31 Poems in 31 Days (from Poewar / Writer's Resource Center). Prompt: Write a poem in the first person that makes a definitive statement. Stand behind something you believe or tell a bold lie. Either way, embrace what you have to say.