At 3 she'd practice curtseying,
in the garden, by the tree.
At 5 she'd dance so daintily
like a fairy, all carefree.
At 7 she'd sing loud and clear
and didn't care if people jeered.
At 12 she'd do the ‘cha cha cha '
and try to act like her mama.
At 14 she'd try on old clothes
she'd find in mama's fine wardrobe.
At 15 she'd wear nylon stockings,
prancing around to be so shocking!
At 19 she'd buy high heeled shoes
and lipstick too for man appeal.
At 21 she'd wear the lot
with her cute figure, why ever not.
At 25 she was a bride
and looked so gorgeous, dressed in white.
At 32 she'd preen and then
she'd struggle with high heels again.
At 42 her waist had thickened,
she'd prize herself into tight knickers
At 52 she'd heave and puff,
looking tip top had become quite tough.
At 63 she'd given in
and taken to a bottle of gin.
And at 75 she'd forgotten why
but wished she could do it all again!
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-in-the-game-2/
