“...a mirror breathing in all the borders of time...”
Kindred
There it is, that face, I’ve seen it before
Grandmother, father...mother, children too -
and yet it is my width and breath now -
that the reflection mimics in it’s opposite
The mousy brown hair that was once strawberry blond now
half a life's worth of white and silver emanating from those
roots out of the pate that holds both old and new ideals
There within my ear are the miniature hammers
gently tapping away at my eardrums - and that akward
variant of a march that I follow that moves
me forward as I preamble and promenade
The pair of eyes not brown or green
yet somewhere in between flecked with gold -
do I hold any treasures, would they be acceptable...
To that continuum timeline that pretends
to hold that which once was, while making room
for that which is and will be... unbound borders
merrily tripped upon as some perception allows...
How is it to be as I am? Old soul young at heart -
Presently wrapped up in the words that I sentence
to spend the rest of their days lined up on a page?
I have no answers, forthwith as I sally forth -
I am happy and would not trade what has transpired.
For all that was has made me whole - whichever
parts you will accept...
©JP/davh Nods of inspirations to both links, thank you.
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