Badge of Honour – a few short verse

Badge
of Honour (1)

I
wear my age,

like
a badge of honour,

pinned
to my collar,

somewhere
above

the
pot

belly

that
keeps me warm –

my
place where all

the
pudding is stored.

Badge
of Honour (2)

I
am becoming

an
archaeological entity,

a geographic
curiosity –

crevices
appear

on
my forehead,

built
of all the surprises

people
have thrown my way,

worn
away by

casual
disregard

for
my honesty,

by
my astonishment

at
integrity,

discarded,

for
cheap thrills, and

ends.

 

Badge
of Honour (3)

My
challenge is met –

the
hairs on my head

now
coloured with life,

these
last six months,

maybe
more.

My
gaze from the mirror

cares
not much if I’m thinner,

sniffs
instead

at
the air

just
to tell what’s for dinner.

 

©
Palitja Moore, text, 2016, and I Moore, image, 2016.

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