Sylvia Daly is one of our founder members. We're delighted to announce she's preparing a collection of her poems for publication this year. She also happened to have a special birthday this week. Here's one of her poems to celebrate.
Thoughts on Being 80 Years of Age
Be gentle with me please,
I can move but slowly.
Muscles no longer bunch in anticipation.
They need some warning.
Grip my arm lightly.
Skin bruises and tears.
If I was bound in vellum
the curator would wear soft gloves.
Give me space, I am not for jostling.
My compass directs but strong breezes
can blow me off course
capsizing me with tipped sails.
Feed me lightly, but with flavour,
my throat cannot cope with gristle.
My stomach rejoices to
fine, dainty delicacies.
Leave me not in the dark. I fear death
and breathe easy in the light.
My terrors diminish
with the dawn.
Visit me less, I am leaving.
I cannot involve myself in your drama.
I am finite, and know it.
You think you are immortal
