You are no longer young, <br />Nor are you very old. <br />There are homes where those belong. <br />You know you do not fit <br />When you observe the cold <br />Stares of those who sit <br /> <br />In bath-chairs or the park <br />(A stick, then, at their side) <br />Or find yourself in the dark <br />And see the lovers who, <br />In love and in their stride, <br />Don't even notice you. <br /> <br />This is a time to begin <br />Your life. It could be new. <br />The sheer not fitting in <br />With the old who envy you <br />And the young who want to win, <br />Not knowing false from true, <br /> <br />Means you have liberty <br />Denied to their extremes. <br />At last now you can be <br />What the old cannot recall <br />And the young long for in dreams, <br />Yet still include them all.<br /><br />Elizabeth Jennings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/accepted/
