New England November,
days passing quickly.
then Christmas arrives.
Time be moving so fast
I miss the days of my youth.

Still unsure what I want.
Thinking, overthinking, stumbling a bit, 
When did I stop marching forward?
When did I begin to be so cautious? 
Older, but not always wiser!
Too old to not have done more.

l recall a time I traveled
in circles of my own making,
wondering why I wandered.
and wandering while I wondered.


Janet Cormier is a painter, writes prose and poetry, and performs comedy. Janet prefers different and original over pretty. She loves collecting stuff, but cleaning not so much. Janet also talks to strangers. A lot. Her column appears weekly on Oddball Magazine.