(Today’s [totally optional] prompt was to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word.
I cheated and began and ended with the same phrase. I am a woman of many words!)


Singing hallelujah,
dancing in spring,
when new life comes out in bud everywhere.

I gambolled more than most,
threw my hands to the sky
and celebrated the joy of breath,
the wonder of the stars,
the bliss of being.

I still lift my hands
(although they don’t go higher than my shoulders now)
and am more moved than ever
at the intricate fingerprints of the architect
in everything around me.

Soon the shell I call home will begin its descent into decay.
My mind will cease to hold things,
and darling, I’m afraid,
it may not recognise you
or remember chasing dust in shafts of sunlight
or recall laughing at your silly jokes.

You may talk to me and get no response.
You may ask me a question and get a mismatched answer.

It will undoubtedly cause you more vexation than me.
But I pray that you’ll hold this truth:
I will be here, trapped in a mindless mind,
caught in a wayward body,
living in solitary confinement somewhere in the depths of this frame.

Occasionally look deep in my eyes
and you might catch a glimpse of me
singing hallelujah,
dancing in spring.