Am about to turn 75.
Have to wonder when that happened.
When did my life become
Everything seemingly coming
from a bit of distance. Not
yet completely greyed, but getting there
slowly. So slowly I didn’t notice.
Would much prefer a bright
cerulean blue. Much truer to
my sense of who I am. And
whatever I might still accomplish.
Red of creative fire still burns
within and turns the pages, more
slowly than I’d like, but at least
the old mill is still churning.
Still making a bit of movement
and sometimes even music.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/6/2021