He laid out some towels
She set a bucket right on top
The outside pitter patter
Echoed closely by drip drop
She plopped down on the couch and said
“I hate our leaky roof…”
He cozied up right next to her
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”

The dog had left a pungent gift
Spread out across the floor
They tied cloth over their noses
Prepared to go to war
They scrubbed the ground on hands and knees
He, unusually mute
She poked his side with smiling eyes
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”

Baby two cried till blue
Every other hour
And baby one learned to run
Too young for such a power
People seemed to judge and stare
Her cheeks turned rosy red
He raised his voice, ignoring glares
“It’s cute! We’re newlyweds!”

She zipped up the dress
He escorted down the aisle
And gave away his baby girl
His heart in full denial
The newfound silence of their home
Was echoed in his head
She played their own first dance song
“It’s cute, we’re newlyweds”

Years spilled by, the kids had kids
Less heed was paid to clocks
Days now passed in reading chairs
With simple meals and long walks
They shuffled down the sidewalk
At a careful, measured pace
Their scooting right in sync,
A peculiar kind of grace
She paused to rub her fingers
His hands were also wrung
She raised her deep-set eyes to his
“Do you ever miss when we were young?”

His wrinkles seemed to lengthen
As a gleam came to his eye
His mind replaying memories
Of leaky roofs and a youthful bride
Then he looked at the woman beside him
Sore with the weight of life
And for a moment he stayed silent
Overwhelmed by his beautiful wife...

“I don’t miss when we were young
Though time has worn us down
The love I had for you back then
Cannot compare to now
I’ll brave a thousand achey bones
Just to take slow walks with you.
Besides,” he took her hand in his
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute.”

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.

SEALs 1962

Laos was a hot spot
Army,
Marine Corps, and
Navy  Amphibious Scout and Raider
school was established
in 1942 at Fort Pierce, Florida.[12]

Such esprit de we, the fewer still,
we, the braver still, we the never free…

Here, none hearing me, none believing
we survived,

this is 2025, we are past all statutes

limiting idle word accountibility, today
as if all before is over, and this is after,

ever before remains to prove, here now,
on any given day,

all hell breaks loose, you listen, not long,

reply, it's okay, that happens generally,

we don't know it all, but generally,
this is life, the good sometimes win,

sometimes lose, last time, everybody dies.

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