Vingt, Èrshí, Twenty Poem by anais vionet
Vingt, Èrshí, Twenty
You've probably seen them everywhere,
the grinning, happy, carefree teenagers,
mere children really.
I'm not a teenager anymore.
I started missing it last week,
because I knew I was losing it,
like a lover at the moment of separation.
Have I lost the fantastic glow of youth?
Maybe *shrug*
I know I've lost a lot of excuses,
'She's just a teenager, ' they used to say.
Well, they can't say that after today.
Click.
‘Cause I'm a twenty-year-old
or am I a twenty-something?
I can't wait to get the manual.
20, God, I feel so grown up.
Congratulations on being twenty or twenty something. With maturity comes some responsibilities and the excuses of the past can no longer hold. Beautiful poem
*** old bag: American slang: 'an ugly or ill-tempered woman' OK, anais, I THINK you 'have a few years left'. : )
Have you ever WORN a 'shrug'? ? What's a 'teenager'? ? ? AND, yes, you are an 'Old Bag***' now!
Vingt, Èrshí? [ at the age of 20? ? ] anais, STOP using Chinese or....? [[ I'm 'too old' for 'this'! ! : ))))
Thanks for leaving a breadcrumb trail so we could revisit our own teenage glow, however vicariously.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/13/2024 9:55:37 AM # 1.0.0
Now it is time to bedeck PoemHunter's fusty halls with loose-leafed pages from the manual you are compiling: NEGOTIATING YOUR TWENTIES