Ever-changing, and reaching this milestone--
stone that marks my aging cells and tells them
"you're a grown-up now."
Or so I'm told.
Not how I feel:
I feel like me and paradoxically I'm a stranger to the woman
in the mirror, who has more laugh-lines than I remember and
tear-tracks scarring cheeks that used to hurt from smiling so hard
while talking, walking, watching, crying, living and loving with you.
Why. No longer a question, but a state:
this place I visit, most days. When I don't, I miss
you and who I used to be
with you.
Without you, the state is a memory, a ghosttown.
Without you, I'm turning. Into what? Into who?
Discovering not either-or, but both-and.
Laugh lines, worry lines--drawing their way
to yesterday, today,
even more clearly to tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I'm scared to go there
without you.
Could you leave the state and come with me?
in another way?
Show up in the tracks of my laughter, and hold my heart while I walk along,
while I turn and turn?
Hold my heart, and I'll carry yours as we spin into each new age.
Why. No longer a question, but a state:
this place I visit, most days. When I don't, I miss
you and who I used to be
with you.
Without you, the state is a memory, a ghosttown.
Without you, I'm turning. Into what? Into who?
Discovering not either-or, but both-and.
Laugh lines, worry lines--drawing their way
to yesterday, today,
even more clearly to tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I'm scared to go there
without you.
Could you leave the state and come with me?
in another way?
Show up in the tracks of my laughter, and hold my heart while I walk along,
while I turn and turn?
Hold my heart, and I'll carry yours as we spin into each new age.