When I grow old

I shall wear purple

polished patent leather, platform soles

aspire to strut higher

grind cool skin till its on fire

twixt scapula and lumbar

spread my toes...

 

I shall chuck grandchildren beneath the chin

then chuck them back - gladly

to parents disapproving, sullen eyed

not aspire to die too wealthy

make the most of being healthy

keep a tally of the peers

that I’ve survived…

 

I will play my music loudly

give not a button for the neighbours

what others think, what others feel, what others say

apply my own domestics

dye my hair till there’s no silver

wax and polish

till there is no trace of grey

 

 

But now I must be sober

tread the tight and narrow path of one who cares

be the citizen looked up to

choose the shoes that are most up to

avoiding all those torrid love affairs…

 

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

wear as tartan scorching scarlet

embrace the high heels of a harlot

break every rule my freedom will allow

so people who know me are not shocked and surprised

when suddenly I’m old and start to wear purple.