I don’t know the yesterday me.
She walked paths of bubble gum dreams
wearing skirts too short for crosses to bear.
I still have long hair, but gray has invaded
golden blond, and I look more hag than innocent.
Oh, my younger me tries to break the
shadow door, but the creaking bone chain
that holds the key doesn’t like to rattle history.
I live in the moment…Doesn’t that sound enlightened?
It’s not. I’m practical because my tomorrows are shrinking.
The yesterday me thought she knew everything.
Today I’m always on a hunt for my phone,
because it holds lists of what I’m sure to forget.