When did I make the transition from child to nan? I don't know.
by Loretta Worthington
She is still here somewhere, running through the grass so green, where no
other feet have been.
Anticipating all that is still to be seen. My eyes look out from a body I do not know.
Nan thats what they call me, "Who is she? An old lady tired and gray, not me.
I am young and gay, just look at me, don't you see the child dancing there
without a care.
Nan how is she?"