In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!
“Indian Summer”
Dorothy Parker
(1893 – 1967)
I came across this poem, on a scrap of paper, tucked between other scraps and pages. As I’m still reeling from the positive energy of Rock Camp, it appeals to me.
Maybe the fact that I’m going through life – just like everyone else – is also a factor. Growth is, well, awkward. But it’s also magnificent.
Three cheers for Miss Dot!