Answer To The Sphynx Poem by Francie Lynch

I don't recall year one of life,
But I'm here now,
So they got it right.
Yet I remember being one,
On a mattress, in the sun,
The smell of bacon and farm odors,
Were part of me as I grew older.

But I never asked to grow up.

I blathered blissfully at two,
And walked first steps
In my father's shoes.

By the time I turned three,
I was sure youth suited me.

I could reach the outside door,
When I grew to the age of four.
Now the world's mine to explore.

But I never asked to grow older.

Then by five I tried to hide
From the travails of an older child;
The digging, weeding, painting, work:
My escape to school was my re-birth.

But I never asked to grow older.

I didn't ask to turn six,
Seven, eight, nine or ten;
I understood our portends.
I didn't like how my world ends,
I finished fishing with "Amens".

But I never asked to grow older.

I made twenty years ago,
When decades moved ever so slow;
Thirty came, forty gone,
And fifty didn't last that long.

But I never asked to grow older.

(The other day, my former baby
Gave me instructionshow to lay
Her baby back to sleep) .

I never asked to grow older,
But since I must please do remember,
Dip my soother in Irish whiskey,
Include me if you solve the mystery;
And tend to me and my life's history.