An illusion of beauty,
Youth’s gone:
You’ve got the clothes and some glamour,
Not quite mutton, certainly not lamb,
But there’s no discipline, and the body’s turned to fat.
Headscarf off, smart car,
This is Identity held to Money,
Yet somehow the two don’t mix.
A few years at most and then you’ll be bored,
Perhaps an affair,
Perhaps a job -
Or sadness and despair.
This is a verse of the poem "As I walked home". Buy the book here
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