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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=336476" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=336476" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I'm afraid of needles. <br>I'm tired of rubber sheets and tubes. <br>I'm tired of faces that I don't know <br>and now I think that death is starting. <br>Death starts like a dream, <br>full of objects and my sister's laughter. <br>We are young and we are walking <br>and picking wild blueberries. <br>all the way to Damariscotta. <br>Oh Susan, she cried. <br>you've stained your new waist. <br>Sweet taste — <br>my mouth so full <br>and the sweet blue running out <br>all the way to Damariscotta. <br>What are you doing? Leave me alone! <br>Can't you see I'm dreaming? <br>In a dream you are never eighty.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a></strong></div>

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