Is it the number of toys you own and use,
gathering mud, blood, or dirt,
to figure out your worth.

Is it the number of people you have met,
share a smile to an intimate encounter,
all relationships are life's echo sounder.

Is it the number of days and the misspent ways
that the grains of sand
fell from your hand.

Is it the number of experiences, of all that you have absorbed,
from head to toe, inside and out with every sense,
in those moments of past, present and future tense.

Is it the collection, of the cells that make you who,
and the places, moments you share
with God, you who, He spared.