Twenty-Three

When I was twenty-three, and teaching school,
Planning my dissertation, I was smart,
Expecting I would make a life in art
And clamber upwards, out of my gene pool
And into something better, something cool.
I wrote it out in rhymes, prepared a chart,
And stencilled it in blue ink on my heart.
When I was twenty-three, I was a fool.

But I was also smart, just like I said,
And when somebody came and promised me
That none of it would turn out properly
I did take steps, ensuring that, instead
Of what was happening inside my head,
I took some risks. Well, I was twenty-three.