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poem submitted to "Five Perspectives" poetry conte,
Margarita Lillico, sponsor, September 2, 2026
At five, the world is leisurely and small, tiny enough to fit inside my hand~ a pebble pocketed from the sidewalk, a leaf, the outside world, I innocently understand At fifteen, the world is hurried and expanding, tilting toward faces in crowded halls~ I ponder who I’m becoming, studying the mirror and glances steadying schoolroom walls. At thirty, the world is broadening, the hours frantic, asking for purpose in their spin and span~ the invisible but deliberate shaping of the burgeoning person I began. At fifty, the world is stable, days balanced and clear: what shall stay, what shall fall away~ I keep the people and moments that ring true and let what remains dissipate and decay. At seventy, the world is unsteady, the pace softening slow: the morning opens wide~ small moments, bright with quiet grace, find room to rest inside.
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