Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

Aging Words

Bonnie Lee Reed
Apr 3 · 2 min read
A 51-year-old me in the late 1990s (I cropped out the bottle of Champagne I was holding celebrating my sister’s 40th! No wonder I look so happy.)

A funny thing happened when I started to write about aging. The words became a poem instead. I didn’t plan it; it just happened and I’ve learned to go where the words lead me.

Thoughts kept coming, and it surprised me when my children popped up in the poem. I have four wonderful children and they are great kids, but busy with their own lives.

So here I am with a poem about aging, and I panic when it comes time to push the publish button. I worry my writing and poetry don’t quite measure up, particularly my poetry. I fear it is too plain, too simplistic compared to other poets. But all I can do is write my emotions, my way. I want people reading it to understand the meaning and feelings behind my words.


I hate the word aging

still feeling young inside.

My body slowing down

while my life is flying by.

Dreams yet to accomplish,

more thoughts to share,

words left unspoken

waiting to carry me there.

My children overlook me,

working hard just to live.

But age does not define me

with nothing left to give.

Maybe they will notice

that mom is still near,

in the words I write today

hoping they will hear.

The legacy I’m leaving

are the words I feel inside,

written each day I’m able

with nothing left to hide.

Bonnie Lee Reed

Written by

Poet, writer, vegetarian, Empath, nutrition coach; writing about life/relationships/food/nature/animals/spirituality.

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