July 2021
Barbara Crooker
bcrooker@ptd.net
Bio Note: Since I don’t have any poems on “losing your mind,” I offer this one on losing other items.

Aphorisms at Seventy

Now "when" becomes "if."
The horizon starts to lower.
You realize you have a sell-by date.
And the deer are always going to win 
      the battle of the garden.
You will never become reconciled
      to losing friends.
You are not going to lose the weight
      from that last baby.
Or finish your reading list.
Still, red wine goes with everything
There is always chocolate.
Spring never gets old.
You don't need a partner to dance.
Originally published in The Paterson Poetry Review, 2018
©2021 Barbara Crooker
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