Actually the 1940's. A time when I remember well. I fell in love with poetry. I bought a book that was very popular. I bought two volumes of a collection of poems gathered in books called TED MALONE'S SCRAPBOOK. Full of poems by I guess mostly unknown poets. I could see myself as one of them some day. I got it out yesterday and am enjoying it again. Here is one I did not know I would really relate to some day. GROW OLD LOVELY, GROWING OLD : by Karle Wilson Baker
Let me grow old lovely, growing old.
So many fine things do.
Laces, and ivory, and gold.
And silks need not be new.
And there is healing in old trees;
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?
Wish I had written this, because it fits me.
BETTY (always wishing) BOOP
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