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Apr 2013
What sweet youth this is
to slowly wilt at eighteen.
Where in twenty years I will be
I wonder what my hands
will feel like then.

Kinder, or maybe the exact

How many paintings will they
have created by then?
How many countries would my
eyes have seen?
How many men would I have
chosen to lay with?
How many decisions would I
have taken?

How many things bought and broken.
How many of those will I save.
How many memories will I forget in
twenty years that now seem so

How much of my life will I regret?
How much will be left by then?

To mend what I have broken.
To throw away what should not have been kept.
To take a pottery class and learn
how to finally mold myself.

To Remember.
Tatiana Arredondo
Written by
Tatiana Arredondo  Miami, FL
(Miami, FL)   
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