In a contemplative mood today and found this poem. Wrote it a few years ago...
For All to See
A
belly ripe with life,
swollen,
heavy as a century suspended in minutes.
Rampant
red stretch-marks circumnavigate a globe of
earth
fruit.
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.
