When I’m 90
I probably will go mad
a mumbling fumbling
foul-smelling vegetable
a dead-weight of pity and guilt
around the necks of my family
Now you know
what I’m most scared of
You?! A vegetable?!
(cried my friend) No!!!
Mad - maybe
but then in the art
of a raving raging ragged
gray-haired sibyl
More your style
and not as bad, or is it?
No, not half as bad,
thank you, my friend
But in the fickle fairy world of verse
the powers to foretell are tightly rationed
and given only once
I’ve forfeited my own
I, silly scared
that too much I had told
did come to pass,
has tried to learn it off
and off I learned it well
So, I will never make your sibyl
I am afraid
The emptiness inside
grows day by day
the only consolation
is
what I’m saying now
I neither do
FORE-
say
When I am 90...
© Copyright: Елена Китаева, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102042100562
Свидетельство о публикации №102042100562
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