Amy Fleury wants to get rid of the myth that the single female is at home sad because she doesn’t have a date. She can get on with her life while at the same time realizing that she is a bit lonely. Here is the beautiful poem that was written by Amy.

At Twenty-Eight

It seems I get by on more luck than sense, not the kind brought on by knuckle to wood, breath on dice, or pennies found in the mud.

I shimmy and slip by on pure fool chance.

At turns charmed and cursed, a girl knows romance as coffee, red wine, and books; solitude she counts as daylight virtue and muted evenings, the inventory of absence.

But this is no sorry spinster story, just the way days string together a life.

Sometimes I eat soup right out of the pan.

Sometimes I don’t care if I will marry.

I dance in my kitchen on Friday nights, singing like only a lucky girl can.

Marsha James wrote this on May 14th, 2006 and filed it under Single Life |