Not an unrealistic goal 😉

Brigid's Cauldron, Prometheus' Fire

I hope it’s an Yves Saint Laurent-type forty
Dignified, refined and clean
White streaks in my hair
Marble stairs tread often
Soft flats to soften the fall of my feet
Vining flowers at the end of the street
And trees on every ancient block
my manzana full of Duende
Quiet elegance, please
But maybe not
Maybe dust in my teeth
Strange nights and fluorescent nights by hostel
Forty worn and womanly
Ageless traveler in the sweep of time
Skin stretched taught over timeless bones
Where no one knows where you’re going
Or from whence you’ve come
But that you’re alive like the rest of them.
I hope it’s an Yves Saint Laurent-type forty
Maybe time will ignore me and I’ll get to live in the sunshine of earth
No grasp on my net worth, only a smile on awakening
Maybe youth spent in late night neon
Watching clock arms speed…

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