Fifty-three reveals herself at last
In full career, a blossom that is blooming.
Fortune, time, and will have had their way,
Though, looking back, it sometimes seems like fate,
Years of choices that have led her here.
There is no point in questioning the past,
However one might find it all-consuming.
Remember, one is ever unbaked clay,
Early on, of course, but also late,
Embraced by shaping hands upon the wheel.