The Jewelry We Wear

I don’t remove or change my rings;

All four I’ve worn for years,

Unlike my huge collection of 

What dangles from my ears.

My necklaces and bracelets 

I switch out and do with care,

Depending on the style of clothing

That I choose to wear.

Around my wrist’s a watch;

I own a few (one even winds!)

And when I’m sockless, on my ankle,

Chains of varied kinds.

My husband wears his wedding band

And that is the extent

Of jewelry he sports

(Though somehow watches came and went).

Displaying our adornments 

Is quite personal, it’s true,

But it’s also a reflection 

Of ourselves that others view.

Opening Your Mouth

Sometimes it’s better to open your mouth

But on other occasions, it’s not,

For declaring opinions may often go south,

So decide if you’re taking that shot.

 

There’s a certain relief when your views are expressed,

Yet it could lead to some confrontation

And you might then regret not just letting it rest,

Thus avoiding a bad situation.

 

How to know what to do is a balancing act -

Neither spewing nor stewing’s ideal –

Though perhaps, with finesse and a sprinkle of tact,

You can calmly explain how you feel.

A Coveted Bench

A coveted bench in the shade,

In my world, means that I’ve got it made,

For tomorrow will be, I’m afraid,

Much too hot, so I wouldn’t have stayed.

 

But today, I can watch the parade

On the river, as boats are displayed

And attention, of course, must be paid,

To the pigeons, who visit, dismayed

 

That I offer no crumbs in a trade.

Still, I hope, as my rhymes start to fade,

That my writing has somehow conveyed

Just how peaceful is all I’ve surveyed.

Very Disappointed

 I’m very disappointed

The remaining 3 won’t quit,

Since “60 Minutes” took a real

Below-the-belt type hit.

The correspondents who are left

Gave reasons I found lame,

Because we know that long-loved show

Will never be the same.

Presenting a united front

Would make the message clear,

But who am I to give advice

On somebody’s career?

I’m sure they talked amongst themselves*

Though I could only sputtuh 

When I heard what they’d decided,

Which was very unlike buttuh.

*Couldn’t resist the Linda Richman reference

(Google her on old Saturday Night Lives)

My Skeleton

My skeleton has brittle bones;

That’s what the test reveals,

Another prime example of

What aging often steals.

I could take some injections or

A course of daily pills

To build my bones back, just in case

I suffer any spills.

Though if I manage not to fall,

My bones are working fine.

Still, if I trip and break my hip,

I’ll know the fault is mine.

The quandary I am in is like

A coin toss - tails or heads?

To trust my balance not to fall

Or cave and take the meds?

Right now it’s 50 - 50.

Will my osteoporosis 

Leave my no-meds skeleton in peace

Despite my diagnosis?

The Tree Man

The tree man toured my property,

Which was at my request.

I wanted some dead branches gone 

And figured he knew best.

He put some ribbons ‘round the trunks

Of trees he thought should go,

One big one next to my back door; 

I’ll likely tell him “no.”

That tree’s been here before my house;

It’s sturdy, tall and strong

And where it started growing first 

Is where it does belong.

Yes, twigs and leaves fall on the roof,

But I don’t have the heart

To have it ripped out from the ground

Where life, for it, did start.

My husband disagrees; he says

To trust the tree man’s eye,

But someone else can hire him

To do it, when I die.

 

Buying Something New

I’m sure I have enough to wear

To last until I die,

Yet still, I buy new clothes at times

And you might wonder why.

 

Though it feels good to dress oneself

In something fresh and cool,

It also makes the time ahead,

So tightly wound, unspool.

 

Since no one buys a shirt or pants

Believing it will last

For just a few appearances

Before one’s time has passed.

 

So purchases become a way

To guarantee (or hope)

That life will keep one on its path

And not death’s slippery slope.