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Growing up while Growing old
Archaic silence reasons with my soul
Not the latest model, and not really a classic
Just a girl who trembles with expectation
When the sun regards my flowers with a smile,
Sending her delicate shafts of hope
Coloring each of my thoughts in beautiful blessings
While the rain seeks to nurture the petals
Who laugh beneath dew and glimmers of light
Breaking through the soundless breeze
Who carries my dreams, roaring into eternity
Old-fashioned, sometimes though – I feel my heartbeat
And mumble to the wind, a song who remembers
What it must be like to stir the old hearts, the souls
Who color my life in yesterday’s glory,
The stories without words, stories that remember
But are never heard, stories in poetic murmurs
Healing the heart and happening, so sure
Reflecting the eternal with each wave of assurance,
A destiny, wrapped in quilts of endless truths
Old age is the one solace from an emptied innocence.
Copyright ©
Regina Mcintosh
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