A Poem for MB

Before I put my mind to the grindstone (ooh, that sounds painful) on Shoes - The Prequel, I promised another blogger I would put this poem up.

I wrote this when I was 27 and about to return home for a while after being a career girl sliding down the greasy pole of success in Sydney and before immersing myself into hippydom.

It was written as a response to the query that you always get when returning home - "anyone special yet?".

So here it is MB (and all women who can enjoy being single) (oh, and all those women who didn't realise you COULD enjoy being single).

THE SPINSTER SONG

Now reaching the age
When, admitting my years,
Peevish looks rise
Amidst unfounded fears,
That, If I don’t try hard,
To find a mate soon,
I shall sentence myself
To unending doom!

But this fear is not mine
And I shout out loud,
“Don’t put out the sunshine
By bringing forth clouds,”
For this is the song
Of a spinster, so proud,
This is The Spinster Song.

I have noticed the bias
Of mother’s of babe,
And of eyes of the sires,
Sense the distrust now raised,
As I am now older
With no troth in sight,
Would I to impose on
Their childish delights.

But Auntie’s a handle
That suits me just fine,
For when piccan’ starts screaming
I will gladly decline,
For although I grow older,
My time is not nigh
“Go forth”, seek my partner
And multiply,
For this is the song
Of a spinster, so spry,
This is The Spinster Song.

And do not disquiet
At thoughts of my state,
As I sail through solo
With nary a mate,
For my cohorts are with me -
I revel unchained;
My affairs are untangled;
My dreams are untamed;

Unhindered with care
And living my days,
Suck the marrow of minutes -
Let the hours make play,
For this is the song
Of a spinster, so fey,
This is The Spinster Song.

© Sophie Jean 1996