and the years fall away like pages torn noiselessly from the skin-bound book of my life
and dropped from a magnificent height they flutter samara-style slow lighting upon the dusty hardwood floor like feathers piling up softly, silently as they clutter the the library of me
and i sift through the pages scavenging for gilded gold but instead i find only me and for once, that is enough
and for once, i am enough
.
samara: the winged seeds of a maple... (helicopter seeds)