20 July 2010
She, me, myself
Waiting for a bus
Woman of an age…
We’ve let our hair go
White, haloed in the right light
Loose-limbed
Beige troos[1], sandals
Ethnic bag[2]
She’s me, here in Oxford
Except I didn’t
Take this route
To The Academic Mecca
I just pop in to visit
Old friends who did,
Busy and immersed.
Just a vague fleeting
Regret, but then
She’s here, instead
For me and all the gals
Who didn’t,
Who flew the coop
Took to The Road,
Talked to The Fairies
And Courted Chaos.
She climbs on The Bus
For Us, restless in
Her harness of purple
She, me, we, us,
Chorus girls for The World:
We will, we can, we did.
Women On The Bus
Going Somewhere,
Ageing Wonderfully Well.
[1] Brit colloquial for trousers.
[2] All the rage, eh, once agin?