As young girls we sang out with spirit
And cheer, Make New Friends and keep the old
And we did, we fell in love with John and Paul
Some turned on, and dropped out- peace man!
All was gold, bright, we changed a culture
NOW, we are directed to a lower level
Three, stepping off an elevator,
A warm inviting waiting room appears
And, a huge signs reads Nuclear Medicine
We nervously glance about that room, and
Tell ourselves that we are not one of them
(The silver-ed ones) , we looked into that
Mirror this morn, we only recall young
Hearts, fresh unlined faces infused and,
Strengthened with youthful idealism
There were no challenged hearts or turkey
Necks, yet all seated in that nearly
Holy room, as if they were waiting
For God, dignity intact and dressed
In the uniform of our generation,
(Under-stated blue jeans, sensible clogs,
And wire- framed glasses) wondered if…
We could make friends with silver and gold
(August 23, 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem