In my youth, there was sometimes beauty,
\na grace of form unmarred by lines,
\nskin tight to the flesh and muscle well defined,
\nhair curling and furled down to a waist
\na mere eighteen inches, spanned easily
\nby the hands of the man who became my love.<\/p>\n
I grow old… I grow old…<\/em><\/p>\n In the years in between youth and age I grow old… I grow old…<\/em><\/p>\n In extreme age there is another kind of beauty, Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In my youth, there was sometimes beauty, a grace of form unmarred by lines, skin tight to the flesh and muscle well defined, hair curling and furled down to a waist a mere eighteen inches, spanned easily by the hands of the man who became…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":308,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,7,13,2114,441,5,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-56433","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-marathon-poem","category-miscellaneous","category-official-marathon-announcement","category-poetry-prompt-responses","category-poetry-prompts","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/56433","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/308"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=56433"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/56433\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":59093,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/56433\/revisions\/59093"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=56433"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=56433"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=56433"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthere is the transitioning time, a form blurred
\nby swelling ankles, a thickened waist,
\nand sagging breasts, time’s no longer subtle
\ncruelties carving lines through my face and hands,
\nadmired differently, desired differently.<\/p>\n
\ntranscending the tightness of flesh
\nand instead defined by wisdom’s light,
\nglowing from within, a lamp beneath a silk thin scarf,
\na lap and arms curved to shelter grandchildren
\nand a waist for their arms to embrace.<\/p>\n