I didn’t plan to make it this far.
the road was long, and I was tired.
Life never promised me softness,
but then there was you ~
folding sunlight into my hours
like it had always belonged there.

You, who can fit
a decade of joy into a single day,
whose laugh pulls the dust from old corners
and leaves something living in its place.
Your eyes ~
they undress more than skin.
They peel back the years I wore like armor,
and somehow,
I do not mind being seen.

You say you don’t like your greys.
But I ~
I never thought I’d wear time like this,
like a shared jacket
slung across the backs of two souls
sitting on a porch too small for regret.
Each silver strand a mile we’ve wandered,
each wrinkle a map I get to trace
with grateful hands.

If this is what age can look like;
soft, surprising,
filled with the kind of joy
that hums low in the bones,
then let time come.
Let it etch you deeper into me.
Let it bring more of your quiet magic,
the kind that rewrites endings
before they’re written.

Whatever waits for us next,
I will greet it smiling.
Because somehow,
you made forever feel
less like a promise,
and more like a present.

Am I too young to miss the past
Am I too old to enjoy the rain
Too young to notice the change
Too old to be immature

Or maybe too young to think when to blink
in fear I’ll miss the bliss if I stop to think

Or maybe age isn’t real
Just there to control when we do what
When we should be embarrassed to cry,
or when to start to live our lives,
and with a blink of an eye
you’re caught barely alive,
wore out from existence of time

Is that all there is?
I'm in wooden canoe sliding down perfect green grass
riding the little uneven dips
yet rolling down smoothly
but the tide comes in
when we're nowhere near the coast
but hey-** that's what the canoe's built for
the tide pushes us down mountainous sliding terrain
my back aches and my mouth is dry from screaming
my fingers tightly ache
this can't be it
all that remains is me and this hideous keyboard
typing out things that never make sense
i cannot understand what i am fighting for
what dinosaur is after me
I'm a caveman with a fully stocked fridge and roof over my head
the survival instincts are alive and well
and yet...
I've achieved everything but nothing at all
I have nothing to show for it
Just a desperate desire to not be wrong again
Not to disappoint people anymore
And be a friend worth having
No way that's it
a too-eventful childhood and adolescence, a politician's scheduled teenagedom and a painfully mediocre twenties
health and wellbeing sacrificed just for a bachelor's
failure after failure in a master's
all to just have one 'unsuccessful' after another in my inbox
and endless promises to my family that I am unable to make good
I thought my people pleasing could at least land me a retail job
but here I am, leading the blind
at the cusp of sitting the hardest exam I'll ever do
and physically and emotionally dead inside
the law I fell in love with
the freedom of learning
my brain's hemispheres turning on their sides and the rainbow eclipsing them
taught me to fight even with endless red tape
there's always something more
only to end up with the door slammed in my face everywhere I turn
I am worse off than I started
the only difference is the stakes are higher
and with every birthday I am too old to not be financially independent
with every birthday comes theirs
and I cannot take anymore
we are all getting old now
I don't know what I like or who I am anymore
I am eternally lost
and I don't know how to write anymore
maybe I missed the boat
I rolled down the hill when I should've walked
that's all there is

Summer mornings, as I round out
the bend in the well-traversed road,
the new sun imposes itself
in the cloudy rearview mirror,
and, for a moment, I am blind,
the way ahead obscured by gnats
of light teasing my weary eyes
the yellow white of the desk lamp
I set atop the chest of drawers
and tilted at such an angle
that I glowed as I emoted
to a rapt crowd of stuffed creatures
enthralling tales penned in crayon
on snap fresh construction paper,
words I knew would only better
as I much too slowly matured
into my God-given talents,
for my life would not be wasted
swatting the blinding memories
every blasted summer morning
as I crawl across the bridge
to the work side of the river

Is it like having another child?
As parents age, it might be…
Yet different, too.

With each year we’re further formed
More hardened in our ways
85 years stiffens more than joints
and loss is painful
whether a father, spouse, (lover?)
or mobility & independence
The loss of oneself is hardest
85 years of grit & drive won’t be broken
by a couple of falls & fractures

Maybe Benjamin Button had it better
since babies & elders both need aid anyway
or was it dementia with a different name?
She fears that most—
the loss of mind & memory
I relate (memories are treasures)
I’d add cancer to the list—
long drawn out pain,
increasing dependence…and loss

Sometimes mercy is allowed…
but that’s my thoughts
how I might deal with cancer,
not her (Christian) way…
Ironic my pro-choice response
“your body, your life, your choice”
respects her “pro-life” (and suffering) perspective,
facilitating independence
as I live with the fear she’ll fall again
spend an hour crawling for help again
suffer long & lonely again

Yes, it’s like having another child
my own Benjamin Button born
I must prepare a room
and my mind

Candy perfume
Cotton candy clouds
Unicorns drinking tea
With an umbrella made for three
Teddybears in suits
Ladybugs weave glitter
Blades and chocolate
Butter and veal
Soft and sweet
Timid and mild
Golden tipped chipped china
Eggs on goblets stand
A tap
A knick
A spank
A kick
And all you add is pepper
Until you sneeze
Baby candy bears
Minty chocolates
Melting fudge away
Breathing in peppermint tea bark tea
Basking in the muddled blend
Of pink and blue and stars and diamonds
The nighttime dreams to begin
Nonsensical tantrum of sleep
Of unnatural restlessness prevades
Another place awaits you
Deeply packed in salt
A well taken care of spot
Renewing the smell of steak, medium rare
Reds and white galore

I’m wondering about the state of my life
It seems as dull as an old pocket knife
No satisfaction in the work I do
No colors but grey and blue

I’m older now and maybe wiser somehow
Seen a lot of time go by up to now
Looking back, it was all so quick
Got a few memories that seem to stick

I remember love, I remember pain
I remember playing out in the rain
I remember people, time and places
I don’t remember names when I see their faces

How much older does one have to be
To understand the things, you need to see
Does age give you rights to win in a fight
Does it let you be the one to see the light

Now it seems that time goes by slow
And it moves based on what you know
Experience can teach you later on
It comes after the lesson is known

I don’t get too excited any more
There’s no mystery behind every door
Been there, done that and moved on
Seen everything I’ve been shown

Looks like old age is for looking back
Wishing for another crack
Wouldn’t do it all over again
Unless it came out the same in the end

So, I’m growing old just for fun
I got wrinkles from too much sun
Can’t say that it’s said and done
Any day just might be the one

She would have been
101 today.

She
must have
thought about it —
we all do

picturing herself
in a future body —
in a future year.

In 2025, I’ll be 101 —
she must have figured,
along the way,
wondering
where should would be-
what it would be like

Or if she would
be gone.