The woman, a nest of grey,
Takes you down to Chelsea Bay.

She stories you, and every time,
Mentions her garden, offers a lime.

A pile of words, so interspersed,
Grows so large, she loses sight of the first.

You scale the sentences, smile in hand,
Laughter, reveals, accusals grand.

She tells you, think differently, make circles of these lines
Use all the pieces of this fruity life, don’t dare discard the rind.

If minds had hands, as pontificate in tandem,
you’d hold hers steady, sliding addendum to addendum.

Then, saying goodbye, she extends once more a lime.
Forgetting, all too quickly, you’d already declined.

A natural yet cruel reminder,
That we all have a hidden number.
Of decades, or years, or months, or days,
Left on this world, before we fade away.
“Grandpa had a fall in the middle of the night”.
And you start praying that he can win this fight.  
“Grandma has cancer and it’s terminal”
And you start hoping for a proper miracle.
“Your uncle Ben can’t walk without a cane”
And you start blaming God for all this pain.

i’m nineteen.
and i’ll never be able to tell you how life works.
or how people exist.
or how cranes build themselves.

i’ll never be able to explain to you how planes fly.
because i know it has something to do with
****** and aerodynamics
but please don’t ask me to explain because truthfully i have no idea.

i’ll never be able to explain the vastness of space.
or what setting to wash my clothes on.
or how to not fall apart.
or the temperature you are supposed to brew your tea at.

i’m nineteen.
but i am able to tell you that life gets better.
and that some people are good.
and that to exist we must learn to trust.

i’ll be able to tell you that despite trying not to
you’ll still inherit things from both of your parents.
you’ll secretly hope that you are more like your mother
and i will loudly hope that you only get your fathers good.

i’ll be able to tell you to keep going.
because one day you’ll look back and be thankful you didn’t give up.
i’ll be able to tell you that it’s important to learn new things.
and that everything goes down a little better with tea (despite the temperature it’s brewed at).

time doesn't slow down for a talk,
like the resting heartbeat
of a ticking bomb.
every pause could last days,
could last weeks,
could last years.
it could end with a shot,
it could break with a kiss.
like a memory, split in a billion pieces,
like a mountain, with all its valleys and creases,
like an enemy missile,
about to be dropped,
time doesn't slow down for a talk.

I like the way you hide the wisdom in your hair,
Those starlight-silver strands collecting in your midnight.

I love the way you shy away from your age,
While the shadows dance within.

I adore the gray brush strokes
That entwine
And blend
On raven feathers
Of dark black hair.

The weight of life is heavy on my shoulder
My memory of youth is sad now I am older
I am closer to the moon than I am to the sun
And the things I regret are the things I haven't done

In the mirror I see a face that I don't recognise
I see the fading of the light and the story in the eyes
Is one of chances lost and forever they are gone
And the only thing that's left is the sadness of a song

The voices that I hear, they take away my breath
I gave my life to fear and now I'm bored to death
I am closer to the end but I never made a start
And the lesson I have learned is tearing me apart

We only get one chance, this is our only shot
When all is said and done, all will be forgot
When you let it slip away, it is forever gone
And the only thing that's left is the sadness of a song

They say youth is but momentary,
An emotional journey, a fleeting mirage,
Where uncharted waters are a treat not a foil
Tempered only by fates willful barrage.

But as time marches on and life settles in
with a rhythm well known and rehearsed,
A mixture of joy, tedium and tears
To the beat of our life we're soon versed.

The rest is a blur of dates and events
Where memories bloom and then fade,
Countless seasons merge into one
As the years rush by on parade.

Then one day we awake from the stupor that was,
Look in the mirror intrigued yet resigned,
Gazing intently at the reflection so stark
Bewildered at lines so defined.

Yet there's a glimmer of light in our eyes,
A developing smile on lips pursed so long,
Older and weathered well may we be,
But we're finally free if a little less strong.

To those that say youth is an absolute
Once lost never regained,
That notion insidious and barely skin deep,
For we know it’s the mind where youth is ordained.

So let this new chapter blossom and thrive
As we commence our journey anew,
Untethered from work and most burdens of life
We embrace simple joys to our spirit renew.