STAINED GLASS BEADWORK   SOSOME POEMS I ENJOY METAMORPHOSIS Unknown Like the butterfly, I find I can do longer stay behind self made walls protection. I struggle to be free Breaking the bonds of what was me, To soar in a new dimension.   FINDING HER HERE Jayne Relaford Brown I am becoming the woman I've wanted, grey at the temples, soft body, delighted, cracked up by life with a laugh that's known bitter but, past it, got better, knows she's a survivor - that whatever comes, she can outlast it. I am becoming a deep weathered basket. I am becoming the woman I've longed for, the motherly lover with arms strong and tender, the growing up daughter who blushes surprises. I am becoming full moons and sunrises. I find her becoming, this woman I've wanted, who knows she'll encompass, who knows she's sufficient, who knows where she's going and travels with passion. Who remembers she's precious, but knows she's not scarce - who knows she is plenty, plenty to share.   WARNING Jenny Joseph When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick the flowers in other people's gardens And learn to spit.   You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat And eat three pounds of sausages at a go Or only bread and pickle for a week And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.   But now we must have clothes that keep us dry And pay our rent and not swear in the street And set a good example for the children. We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.   But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. Henry Van Dyke Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity. THE JOURNEY IS MY DESTINATION   Hey, we're getting pretty serious here, aren't we? OK, here's a little non-poem to lighten the mood! A baby chicken asks... Am I people? No...you are chicken. Do chickens come from people? No...chickens come from eggs. Are eggs born? No...eggs are laid. Are people laid? Some are, some are chicken! LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO WEAR TIGHT SHOES