Years

I’m not always sure what my years are adding up to.

Perhaps I’m worried that they’re taking something away;

Something I can’t quite put my finger on

But feel slipping, retracting, and fading every day

As the inflexibility of time’s march — of this earth–

Propels me even further away.

Time propels me further down a future I tell myself I planned.

A future filled with beauty, vibrancy, and a life to be lived;

But a future away from a past that holds mistakes, dread, and regret

For what I haven’t done and never said.

I’m not always sure what my years are adding here

Within these decades that pass far too quickly.

Perhaps I know that with each day an old me is taken away.

So I pray that the new me will be

Something the old would be proud to see.

–Written by Sandy Heights

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

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