Take away your miracle balms
I quite like the flap of my arms
Be gone with your pills and potions
Your empty age defying lotions
I quite like the way my neck creases
Like a beautiful timeless scarf that pleases
Don’t need my eyes lifted sky high
They will close permanently when I die
I’m sure you’ll forgive my reluctance
To have my brow injected with a noxious substance
I don’t mind the curve of my thighs
Like rippled peel that’s been left out to dry
I have no desire to lift, shape and tuck
The smooth, sagging joy of my tits, stomach and butt
No. I won’t smooth out my wrinkles, not I
Because one day, my dear, we’re all going to die
My lines tell a story of unadulterated glory
My body has carried me through, all I’ve needed to do
Just let her lie, leave the fake to the dumb
Embrace all your wisdom, and who you’ve become.
Mags Winthrop Blog 