Armed with plans and guidelines, we ready for life’s climb, unaware that childhood, untamed and intact, takes the lead.
Influence minimal, once hair turns white and body slows to sloth Only words – genderless and without context serve to blindside Last weapon of age.
Gossamer that thread, that sparkle, that vestige of my youth I try to hold on, gnarly grip no match for her exuberance Hope we reunite
Idleness fills his hours as if time knows no limits I devour moments, afraid tomorrow will forget me we see-saw between treacherous righteousness and fusty
Majesty is a tree quiet strength and vulnerability no more sheltered from acts of nature than I – none impenetrable, although youth believes it –
Such a gift is youth – silvers stars and bows, jingle-jangle wishes… Seldom opened – shame and insecurity casting doubt, despair Shall we try again,