I have come to love my soft, slack belly
and by turns have been maiden, mother, crone;
sampled life, a celestial deli,
sucked out the marrow, tossed away the bones.
Green salad days of bright youth and beauty
whirled past too quickly, burnt up with passion,
pouring out time like wine, cheap and fruity,
guzzling all at once, that was my fashion.
The mothering years I learned to savor
mac and cheese moments, blue Kool-Aid parties,
though champagne, caviar is what I favored,
I daydreamed of them while doing laundry.
As for the present years, I'm peckish yet,
for the just desserts of a life well spent.
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