In September 1987, after my younger cousin got married and EVERYBODY came up to me and told me it was my turn next, I wrote the poem “Single Life”.


SINGLE LIFE

Six-and-twenty years of age – it doesn’t seem so old.
But by well-meaning married friends, I frequently am told:
“Not married yet?” “well, your turn next.” “You’re becoming an old maid!”
“You’re sitting on the shelf!” as though I haven’t made the grade!

Perhaps I should just marry and be someone’s little wife.
If they have a lot of money, I’d have an easy life …
Just take the children off to school, play bridge and tennis too.
Cook cordon bleau meals for our friends and entertain a few.

Or maybe I should leave it and give up this crazy search
Trying to find my Mr Right to lead him to the church.
The only men I seem to meet are bastards through and through.
You know, my friends don’t seem to see things from my point of view.

Right now, I have my freedom – I do just as I like.
I come and go as I please.  I can stay out all night.
I eat at the best restaurants, have different dates each week.
There’s lots of time, I’m having fun.  There’s many men to meet!


   © DIANNE NIELSEN        September 1987