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| Santa Rita Mountains in Arizona 8-7-2010 |
I guess it’s too late to be a ballerina, lithe, graceful and
pretty.
I guess it’s too late to own my own horse and ride wildly
over the fields.
I guess it’s too late to build a log cabin, all from scratch
with my own trees and on my own land.
I guess it’s too late to live in the mountains, far away
from anyone or anything.
I guess it’s too late to live in Idaho, a place more wild
and beautiful than I could have imagined.
I guess it’s too late to be an Indian princess and live in a
teepee and wear a buckskin dress and moccasins.
I guess it’s too late to become a doctor and practice in
some faraway place where I am most needed.
I know it’s too late to save my poor dog, the beautiful
Irish Setter—poetry in motion. I let him down. He was my friend. He was my
heart.
But it is never too late to sing my own song, or write my
own story.
It is never too late to love, or forgive,
or to dream.
~ Kathie Adams Brown
(4-1-15)
