Sometimes I just think funny.  If I'm fortunate, sometimes I have a journal around when I do.  Some of you may know that I've been dipping my toe into writing, specifically, kidlit.  Kid Literature, specifically.  As much as I like the word in itself (Kidlit is a fun word to say).  On the other hand, it's difficult for me to throw it out there, as if I've heard it before 2 weeks ago.  

There is one particular style of writing that lacks appeal, and it's poetry.  Poetry is not my thing.  Don't make me repeat myself.  Not a fan.  [However, it's important to know that I respect people who do  get poetry.  I just don't really want to read it and I prefer it stays behind closed doors, much like sexual preferences and political agendas.  I have boundaries.

With that said, a funny thought came to me this evening--in the form of poetry.  But I had a pen and wrote it down and thought I would share it with you.  So, here it is, not totally unpolished (look, it's late, I'm tired and if it doesn't get posted now it won't ever get posted).  Hopefully you'll stick with it relatively painlessly.   It's where I'm at tonight.  

     As girls we hold hands and kittens,
     at 16, cigarettes.
     20's fly by with cocktails and addictions.
     Thirties hold diapers and Doctorates,
        
     At forty we lose time....
     Lose Grace.
     Some look Death in the face.

     As Fifty rears, 
     one thing is clear:
     We need to hold on to what is dear.
     Time to Let go of the anger, while holding the Cross.

     Whatever 60 holds, 
     I hope it's Grace.
     It seems to be lacking in this time & space.  

That's it.  Have a good night.  ~Yvette