Growing Old

Tomorrow is my birthday. On December 1, I’ll be 47. Here’s my birthday thought.

——-

When I Grow Up

I’ll still peer
into the slivers

of shadow
that insulate
the space

between wet leaves
plucked
by a night’s rain,

on my hands and knees,
assured that something
returns my gaze,

confident
that I exist.

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9 thoughts on “Growing Old

  1. Pingback: Not there yet, but almost. | The Hempstead Man

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