Taken on August 15, 2011
As long as I live
I shall always be
My Self—and no other,
Just me.
Like a tree.
Like a willow or elder,
An aspen, a thorn,
Or a cypress forlorn.
Like a flower,
For its hour
A primrose, a pink,
Or a violet—
Sunned by the sun,
And with dewdrops wet.
Always just me.
—Walter de la Mare
Favorite Poems Old and New
edited by Helen Ferris
08.15.2023: I hated my hair then with every ounce of my being, but what could I do? Months earlier, my stylist had given me the exact opposite of what I had asked for. A day or two later, I called and told her she’d need to cut it all off. This is what it eventually grew into. I didn’t say good-bye when the woman left town.