Poetry

I looked in the mirror and said I wasnt supposed to get old, I was supposed to have written the great poetry have died young and beautiful like John Keats. But of course he didnt want to die and it was a horrible death in Rome. My husband said there is still time to write the poetry. If you could just remember what you think for more than 10 minutes and if you took anything you think seriously any more. I am tired, running around the tennis court and I went for a surf plus our christmas lunch too much food. 

The beautiful daughters are looking at snow boards.  Lucky things.