I may have been a child once
I cannot recall young legs,
bright cheeks, smooth skin –

mirror reflects truth, aged
tired eyes, silver strands
of hair no longer dark brown

always string-straight, never
held a curl after sleeping in
pink sponge rollers that hurt.

Bounding upstairs laughing
back then, replaced sore knees
hand on railing steady pace

walking to get mail, why do
they call it snail – although
gait is no longer a trot, more

like an old mare resting under
apple tree, cloudy skies rob light
cloudy eyes search for drops.

Lost my keys, more cannot
find – was I looking for wallet,
walk back to the kitchen, oh yes

keys on the counter, back to chair
think about kids grown, how long
since I was full of energy, youth?

Selected byNolcha Fox
Image credit:Filip Szalbot

Julie A. Dickson has written poetry for over 50 years, has served on two poetry boards, coordinated 100 Thousand Poets for Change for 5 years and her work appears often in various journals including Medusa's Kitchen, Blue Heron Review, Open Door, Misfit, MasticadoresUSA and Uppagus. She has authored YA fiction books including "Bullied to Death" [Piscataqua Press] and Poetry books, the latest being "Untumbled Gem" [Goldfish Press]. Dickson holds a BPS in Behavioral Science, advocates for captive elephants and shares her home with two rescued feral cats.