Breakfast today? Served on a breakfast tray? No way!

Today I decided on greens, baked sweet potatoes,

Roast pork and cornbread already waiting -

My leftovers from the day before.

For something to help it down? Let me think.

Oh, yes! Buttermilk I’ll have for my morning drink.

I’m exercising my new-found freedom.

I’m free to ignore what that screen says I should eat on arising.

Free from the egg, bacon, ham, English muffin, waffle, cereal fare

I’ve eaten that’s gotten me nowhere. Not surprising.

I really can’t say why until now

I’ve passed over perfectly good food from the day before

Leaving it in the fridge to die while I rushed

To the supermarket frantically hurrying to buy more.

Who invented plus size clothes? Probably it’s one of those

who write and talk about dangers awaiting the morbidly fat.

Or the photographers who specialize in airbrushing

Plump models until they’re as thin as a Siamese cat.

Freedom from worrying about someone else’s dream

Gave me the freedom at last to flaunt my beautiful girth.

I’m free to realize that I am the only one who can determine my worth.

Should have listened when Mama tried to tell me

“Folks don’t have to look at you, their eyes they can close.

But you owe the public a clean smell because no one can close a nose.”

How do you like my car? It’s got a few dents, and scratches plenty,

But it takes me where I want to go,

And for transportation it beats not having any.

Sometimes when I look at the beautiful cars around me,

I think about getting depressed. But before that can happen

Freedom from dreaming the dream wakes me up refreshed.

Considering the monthly cost to ride in style

When I look at the cars around awhile,

I shed no tears; I suppress a scream FREE! I know I’m free.

“Bessie” is paid for - has been for ten years. Incidentally,

I always try to park close to a car

That’s similar in color, clean and with a shine,

So when I return to “Old Bessie” and people gather to help me find

My car, they don’t know that I am enjoying a senior moment

Trying to decide which car is mine.

©2009 Rosalie M. Taylor