When I was just 9, I wished
For the days to fall and turn and
Make me 10. Accomplished.
At 12, I longed to leave town
And move house again. Fresh
Start, new friends. Another down.
When 15 and troubled I pleaded for reversal
Of the previous two. This is not life,
Oh, sorrow. A mere rehearsal.
Now 18, I am pushing boundaries hard,
Wishing once again for the days to pass.
Seeking escapism in trying to be a bard.
At 81, I might wriggle from a single bed
With the cripple of Parkinsons or arthritis,
Or I might be lost at home, wishing
All those wishes had never been said.
Seán O Muiríosa
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wish-5/
