Another 29th Sept.
A year older. Now forty-four.
A nice, round number. No hard edges, unlike 43.
43 is brash-angular, with sharp edges. Wannabe. Defiant.
Drama. Screeching violins. Thunder storms.
Sums up the last year. The last decade.
Now the housekeepin’s done.
44? I’ll figure out. By and by.
An equipoise kind of peace, know that one?
That’s the mantra. Next ten years.
The fine wrinkles, the silver, the laugh lines- a toast.
Peach-orange tint to a morning.
A solitary star pinned to the night sky.
A dog that rushes to greet.
A handmade gift from someone precious.
That 5 am tea from the parent.
Gift me the eyes to see.