The More Things Change...

Updated: May 4, 2018

For as long as I can remember, I've had the need to write. Until I made it a second career, I began the very bad habit of writing things that were never dated or organized in any way. There's poetry and prose tossed into neglected boxes, tucked inside books, jotted on scraps of yellowed paper and pasted into silverfish-nibbled journals that are hiding somewhere in the dusty attic, I suppose.

But as I read them now (the ones I can actually find), I realize that many of my penned thoughts are universal. I'm sharing some in hopes you can relate.

I wrote "Fantasy" when I was somewhere in my 30s; it's still relevant today. And the answer is still the same.

Yes, in cotton dress I would remain.



Fantasy


Sometimes it seems my mirror lies

And sees me through judgmental eyes

So I retreat behind an aging face

And dress myself in mental lace

I see myself as dancing free

Beneath the old magnolia tree

I touch my neck and pearls appear

My eyes, like diamonds, crystal clear

Surrounding me are precious things

Upon young hands are golden rings

My clothing satin, soft and fine

I sip from crystal finest wines

But illusions only last awhile

Reflections offer no denial.

I stand alone, in cotton dress

My hands against the mirror pressed

If I could but for one day be

The woman in the fantasy,

Would I escape and youth regain?

Or would I in cotton dress remain?

Connie Strong

* Edited from a previous version that was recognized and published by Texas Poetry Society
















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