Memories of youth are slipping away
My friend, menopause has taken hold of me
and won’t let go.

I feel like a 25 year old most of the time
till I try to get up from a chair, I’ve sat in too long.
What I liked then I like now, the music, the men and the food.

I use to enjoy listening to the old folks tell the stories of
their youth and could imagine the Cotton Club, The Savoy
Harlem and Newark.

Now I want to tell someone about my hay day and there’s no one
to listen.

Children 10 and younger think I was a slave and beyond that I’m
just old.  Relics aren’t suppose to talk – old people should be seen
and not heard and they really don’t want to see you.

So here I sit alone with my memories, aging gracefully.