Thoughts on forty!

My hair has gone sporadically white

And my tongue is sharper than my sight.

I  can tell the real from the fake

And I know when and which rules to break.

I still am a learner of the art of tact.

Of handling diplomatically the uncomfortable facts.

I know that living alone is not easier-

Nor living together breezier.

And yet you must take a stand,

Have courage to drop anchor in the shifting sands.

Shucks! Am I doing a retrospective?

By getting all introspective?

Let us talk of joys that nothing can dim,

My children  and my child-like pleasure in the Gym

Sure, I am not the ideal mom nor leaner or faster

But well away from being a basketcase parent or a lifestyle disaster.

Let’s talk of wrinkles: I call them mere crinkles

And my kids love how they define my eyes when they twinkle.

With them I rejoice

Being Forty is rather nice.