Today I lost my allure;

it left me on 42 avenue

where I stood

my two breasts i surmised

had sucummbed another inch to gravity

and this had been noticed  by the hard hats

who measure such things;

that the lines that lined my face advanced another millimeter

now visible for them to see

where such sensiitivity exists

to every  furrow and crease

in us women;

that we can hear stage-whispers

from sidewalk auidences of young men that

say "who is the old broad"

as we wrangle our younger self- image

and bring it to the fore and silently

self-whisper "who are they talking about":

but you know its you and you have

left the realm of hot and young

and merged into the realm of somebody's mother.

 But I will not remain in that frozen  world.

I will mount the fight to retard the advancing lines

and reassert that I still have a young girl beaming

inside.

But they demur and I am exiled from the young enclave

to that of moms and hotness retired.

I grieve.