THE OLD WINDMILL

When I was young and new
the wind moved quickly
over my vanes
I worked
pulling the water
from deep below

The animals came

Early in the morn
with the rising sun
they came
in the evening
when the golds and pinks
touched the sky
they came

Now I am old
broken
I no longer
bring the water

The birds
build their homes
among my vanes
the chicks hatch
mature
and fly away

Life goes on
all around

The sun rises
the sun sets
colors
intermingled
with blue
I watch alone
and dream
of yesteryear
like many things
old

This is dedicated to my step-father who was 86 years old {1912-1998}

WARNING

by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me,
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and a pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.