Visiting Stevensville, Montana July 2012
Slow Dancing Past Sixty
Her youth dreams smile.
Her heart cannot hear
The foot steps of sixty
Coming up the stairs…
Or see their presence stop
By the old swing,
Wrinkled eyes following
Painted toes in sandals…
Eyes peering into mirrors
Over a Walgreen’s counter
Watching innocence find
Love in a shade of lipstick…
Lips painted for love,
Changing to new colors,
As the seasons pass
On to her children…
At sixty the flannel gown
Draws tight around;
Her every breath evades
The pulse of her need…
She fears no body
Remains beneath the length
Of long sleeves;
She didn’t resist…
Slow dancing past sixty…
Poetry on Wings 
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