Little Women of Yesteryear

(my personal favorite version of Little Women is the one made in 1949)

Time always feels much older after dark 

After we pass the mark of middle age 

(though secretly we still feel like Jo March 

Behind the veil that falls o’er twilight’s stage) 

To hide the tears that love and longing spark 

Because some things no elements can cage 

Though we no longer hunger to embark 

On voyages that could turn back the page 

Still, we might dare to share half-openly 

Impressions outlined like shadows of ink 

Not brave enough to bare for all to see 

The letting go of places that we think 

Where what remains of what will be, will be 

In spite of what time seals in gold and pink 

Like envelopes containing poetry 

Collected in a vault beyond dusk’s brink 

…where Time always feels older when the cloth 

Of dusk is drawn across earth’s windowpane 

And all is dark save far-off silver froth 

Of stars to make us feel half-young again 

Where let’s admit it, you and I are both 

Jo March inside, unwilling to abstain 

From agonies half-pleasing and half-wroth 

And far too complicated to explain 

Maybe there is a lane where Laurie waits 

But we are far too old to go and see 

Lest while we roam the dark of night abates 

So we submit to sensibility 

And walk sedately with our wedded mates 

Acting ever so very properly 

No swinging or leaping o’er garden gates 

As we put on the person of Marmee

© Janet Martin