There was never more time
than when I was 23,
bold, brash and free.
I called out to any, to all…
you will never make me fall
as I pushed back
up from the pavement.
It is faster now, time.
Being no longer 23,
with a near carbon-copy me
I chase after and hold
for a moment, to keep
her from falling.
She will, I know.
Just as she tumbles head over heels in the grass, a summersault.
She will tumble a life.
Over and over, the days
I can salve and bandage her knee,
treat the sting of a bee,
turn her ear to my voice
singing on or off key.
She will stop crying,
only momentarily
before she will be
pushing off of 23.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
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