I’m Not Going

The door of change is open,

But I choose not to go.

It’s just too soon to think about.

I’m not that old, you know.

I’ll not march forth toward menopause,

That malicious badge of aging.

I won’t step ‘cross that threshold

Into hormones that are raging.

I can’t give in, I must resist,

Must turn my back and flee.

I must find another route and

Avoid maturity.

I’ll dye my hair a rich dark hue.

I’ll paint my nails bright pink.

I’ll wear the latest fashion trends,

And pierce my nose, I think.

I’ll eat more fruits and vegetables

And diet to size ten.

My innards will not have a clue

That changes should begin.

The door of change will surely close

If I appear quite young.

If in doubt I’ll get tattooed

And wear diamonds in my tongue.

No, I shall not go right now

Through the door beyond my youth.

I’ll stay right here another year

And deny genetic truth.

Why is it so hot in here?

Rachel S. Neal