In a contemplative mood today and found this poem. Wrote it a few years ago...
For All to See
A belly ripe with life,
Rampant red stretch-marks circumnavigate a globe of
Skin yearning to burst.
She observes, delights in, a twisting fist pushing out - distorting the round,
though restricted tightly by our largest organ.
A foot follows, rippling the contour, then retreats
restores, silently announcing ‘I’m here’.
A mirror reflects years forward, no longer rampant red.
Pale silvery threads fold in amongst memories, hanging, drooping.
Dreams hanker for taught veldts, chase pancake flat plains.
Inside out, the baggage of ageing...
for all to see.