One day, I will grow old.
My wrinkles will deepen.
My hair will go gray in streaks and then in whole.
My neck and breasts will sag.
My skin will become thinner.
My voice, a touch more frail.
One day, I will continue to wither and live and age and love
and
i
cannot
wait.
Imagine growing up in absolute dirt poverty in east Tennessee, daughter of a tobacco farmer, going to school wearing rags your mother stitched into a coat, and when you die the British royal family has its military band play your up-the-workers country-pop anthem in tribute.