Pocket Full Of Strangers Poem by Lonnie Hicks

At Twenty and Eight
I had a Pocket Full of Strangers;
At Twenty Nine
I too
had a Purse Full of Sweet Regrets.

At Thirty
I had rubbed out
so many sweet things
but that did not sate.

Thirty was my precipice
to go or not to go
to baby-up
or man-less seek
adopt or
pregnant
with just me.

Burning with
baby desire
I counted
my chances;
balancing
man-desire
baby-desire
future-desires
alone scenarios
while friends
married
settled in
leaving me
feeling
left behind.

While men my age
still played
bachelor-honed
couldn't afford
or afraid
or forlorn
to contemplate
a single mate.

And I took my
binoculars
aimed lower
for faithfulness
and stability
concentrating
on family
hoping
for the best
while yearning too
for the adventures
of my
twenties
forever unsure
of Settling's Fate.