“I don’t know how I got here?”, asked Alice in Wonderland
A familiar question I occasionally ask myself.
Now, surrounded with grown children
They shorten my stature and dwarf my presence
Really now?
How is it I’m here, when I was just there?

“Come on, you’re like a fine wine. You get better with age”
“Oh, ya?… Drink Me!”…… the bottle read.
And everything will get better and change
You will be youthful and playful and lineless and timeless.
Doubt this.
I’d rather be a small glassed bottle of Coke.

I see out from my within
Feeling great when the day begins
Sparking in my steps, until the day calms and sets
Then the small aches which predicatively reverberate
Down my once sexy backless dress.
Reminders that…
We are not in Kansas anymore.

“Aren’t antiques so charming?” said the young man
Looking to sell a unique piece of time
Priceless, precious, precocious, and plentiful of age
“Drink Me! Take Me! Enwrap Me!
Turn it around until youth spins from my eaves
Am I?
Perhaps a little day dreaming glass of time…..I mean, wine……Drink Me!