The Maturing-Women Frontier Poem by Chuy Amante

Watching from the bushes on the outskirts of town.
I see them still moving about, but differently.
The last time I saw them was 25 years ago.
Some are bent, some are tall and proud,
some are haggard, some have the spring of youth,
some hardly move, some scream often, some are peaceful.
I really like the grey, they are all turning blonde I guess.
Inches are the mark of success, they've done well.
Each facial line marks a dream come true
and has a beautiful story! They must be happy!
They remind me of a perfectly ripe piece of fruit!