Omi McCurdie Poem
Are there
more memories to be made in my youth or do I have to live out old ones, like my
favorite song on repeat? The only problem with this is even the best songs get
old sometimes. Happy memories, ones of listening to Bob Dolan songs with some
one you love when you’re a bit tipsy; that freedom of letting go completely and
surrendering to a moment you know is not good for you. Will we feel that
excitement again or will we blend into normality, like the majority of the
population that is forced to march to the same beat? I fear my youth is over
and me dancing wild and free never knowing what my future holds is about to
leave me. I am a dangling tooth that has yet to be pulled. I sit there waiting,
knowing my time is almost up but still too afraid to tie the knot and slam the
door. I'm not sad - let me state that! I'm happy, but melancholia runs through
my now open veins. The future is bright yet restricted; it's my turn to be the
grown up, and part of me revels in it and part of me dies. I like to get
dressed up and take myself out for an old fashioned while Red sits in tow. It
makes me feel like the women I am. It makes me feel like I'm living again - a
child in a grown up’s coat, still not aware of the fact that she has grown. I
am a painting that I put on display but not for anyone in particular, only
myself. There is something beautiful about a solo women drinking down her
memories, feeling content with the place she is at. I am content in my own
comfort - just Red, and me and a bottle of booze. Spring is coming, I can feel
it; time is changing; yet I'm still going to be here drinking my wine.
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