Seven Stages of Me

All a woman’s names are a stage,
Of all the men and women players in her life.
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one woman in her time plays many parts,
Her acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. [1]
And then the confirmation candidate, with her white
And red shining robe, vowing to be a
Brave warrior like Joan of Arc.[2] And then the lover, Continue reading