The Change

You hear the words from childhood at a very early age.
You wonder at the mystery of people acting strange.
You know it makes you hot and not really want to bother.
But nobody explains to you, not even dear old mother.

The Change

You see their mouths moving, but don’t really hear the words.
You wonder at the change that makes them all so scared.
You know to make mum better, you have to promise to be good.
You know it’s not your fault her face fills up with blood.

The Change

You will understand one day, is all that you are told.
You too will have the change, but not till you are old
You have a long life of fun yet, before you need to worry.
You don’t need to know now; there really is no hurry

The Change

You are 40 years old now; that time is coming near.
You never did find out what makes us ladies queer.
You feel the heat rush to your face, and remember long ago.
You asked questions, but were told, you didn’t need to know.

The Change

You search in vain reasons, for hot flushes sweats & such
You take potions pills and patches nothing helps very much.
You look back on life, and scream, in a high-pitched range.
You realise you are living through that hell they call
The change.

Tina C