You there, with that mop of hair.
You, who used to sing without a care.
You loved the stage and the English language.
Dramas, debates; why, even the English sausage!
The ten year old you, promised yourself,
That you’d travel, explore even the Arctic shelf.
Broke that promise, didn’t you girl!
However, you realised at age 30, that you did love your curls.
And vowed at the top of your voice, to start afresh,
You’d find that singing voice, write stories for hours at a stretch.
A decade down the line,
What have you to say this time!
‘Oops! I did it again.
Promises are like delicate chinaware, such a pain!’
Pic Courtsey: Jelleke Vanooteghem: Unsplash
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