don’t ask the color of my hair

 

I think I must be younger than I am;

Still looking for a mirror that’s wrinkle free.

Hey, only special peeps may call me Gram.

 

I really do not need the “senior discount” plan,

Send back those letters from  A.A.R.P.!

I think I must be younger than I am.

 

Adults who call me Grandma?  I take it “like a man”

but wonder whether they can count to three!

‘Cuz only special peeps may call me Gram.

 

Kids fill the house with music; it’s time for us to jam.

Can chaos and commotion inspire poetry?

I think I must be younger than I am.

 

Blond boy and baby girl, sweetest members of our fam,

Come snuggle in my arms or re-read books across my knee.

Yes, only special peeps may call me Gram.

 

So many birthday candles? I just cannot understand.

My truest friends are winking because they all agree,

I really must be younger than I am,

And only special peeps may call me Gram!

 

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. lynndiane
    Mar 14, 2013 @ 22:27:08

    Thanks, Angie. Ambivalence is to be surprised by birthdays yet embrace our age!

    Reply

  2. Angie Vik
    Mar 14, 2013 @ 05:00:33

    Fun poem. Feels weird to be this old so I i can relate to your sentiment.

    Reply

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