The Coming of Age
Creeping like those cats with
three-inch long legs,
It steals upon you
in a whisper.
One day
You are
As always.
The next,
Your reflection
Reflects that
Your time is
shortening
— and not the good kind of shortening —
You look into your own eyes,
observe the lines
that life has drawn,
and think,
“Well,
all right then.”
6 comments
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October 26, 2012 at 7:20 am
E-bro
Indeed…
Love the poem.
October 26, 2012 at 8:25 am
Seasweetie
Thanks! I love you.
October 26, 2012 at 12:29 pm
slpmartin
Oh…seems like it dashes at some point…and yells…”Ready or Not here I come!” 🙂
October 26, 2012 at 2:42 pm
Seasweetie
And there’s not a damn thing we can do except enjoy it!
October 27, 2012 at 10:55 am
thepetalpusher
Love the poem and it shows that you have an acceptance for aging. And your eyes are quite pretty colors!
October 28, 2012 at 4:59 pm
Seasweetie
Thanks, petal!