I have never forgotten reading that Beatrix Potter upon reflecting on old age said "I am sometimes surprised at myself, being contented..." This poem was a gentle surprise to me as I read Jenifer's recollections on her meeting with Greystroke. I was reminded again the precious lesson from knowing and being with donkeys, so strong courage and a tranquil heart.
I thank you once again.
Coming of Age
A bit of Irish luck
as you ventured in today,
You elegantly held me
You whispered that you loved me, just with
my stroke of grey.
And though I may wander
I shall hold you close,
Our bond of affection
Is but a delicate pleasure,
I hear "forget me not" in your voice.
Yet I know I am your Guelder Rose,
Our love is not unfortunate
though it comes so late in life.
My best days are past
Our parting is for sure,
But they'll be no weeping with
Thoughts of absent friends
For our charms are engraven
On each other's heart.
I'll be your watchful shadow
And sing with coquetry,
Bundling my aging bray
Into a faint bouquet of "hee".
I'll be your grace of remembrance
Rewarding our charming unity
And with our docile friendship
You will sing our soul's duets,
And will not weep for me.