Ten Year Gone

In the shade of my first decade a voice too small to know
could have told me, “You have lived so far in three states, spent
existence as the youngest, a big brother, a four-eyed outcast.
You have loved like no one might have ever. This you’ve done,
just ten years gone.”

Careers poked through from seeds and grew. Promotions, evaluations,
each experience a blend of faces leading and faces lead. Leaves felled
from the end of branches, flowering. They run. Now hung in a vase,
or spread out in their own field. I worked till the crops had come,
those ten years gone.

Lovers lives rose like balloons, bright and colorful, hot nights blown into
with all the might lust-filled lungs can produce, lifting against the sunlight
with no ground in sight, surely meant to always rise. The dot on the horizon
cool with falling night, cool against inevitable dawn. Laid on uneven ground,
ten years gone.

Passions and hobbies, majors and industries, hair styles and musical taste,
small existence come and gone, plans some might call a waste, cities, projects.
We can meditate for a lifetime or two, figuring out what to love and what to do.
In the end only the stories carry on, characters in our misspelled memories,
ten years gone.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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