To keep that constant reminder with
age as not to forget who we are
as we become
Who we were as we become
Who we are
In age as I travel among these
feelings and thoughts
There are some things to be kept
Some things to be watched
and watch without turning my head
Dare I step without dragging a foot
Changing always even if I don’t wish
to pull away
Rather shall I carve my way
and keep a few as others fade
and keep a few while keeping face
Maybe I won’t lose my trace
Steps taken over the waters
As if through time as well
It is suspended
After I leave here
Before I get there
As I project thoughts
that play along the rails
Counting each hop
Counting each skip
Then returning as if
none of it occurred
The bridge ends and soon
Play a game with me
In the seasons of my self
Maybe we will get lost
As time passes in moments
We may find perspective again
Now I’m becoming the friend I would have wanted
and even more so the friend I needed.
The kind of person who has the perspective I lacked.
Especially when I was off they would know
and they would help me understand it.
Even if I wouldn’t have asked for the help I needed…anyway.
Whither will the flowers
Soaking each stem and each root
Kindling all the buds
Variety is the spice ,the sprinkles, the chocolate chip. The profound in the mundane, mundane in the profound all that is new becomes dull, then new again. Everything is borroed, and nothing is ever kept, there’s no keeping each other, nor any other person. It’s not so much the person that is kept, but all the time we borrowed together.
Then we’ll have memories, even of the things we’ve forgotten. We’ll feel different and differently, about the emotions we had and the emotions we have. Young or aged, nothing new, movements made, altered, just different. All of us, each of us, changed.