Memoir

 {day 18}

she looked in the mirror
she was working on her 26th year

she saw, in her round face,
a flower in it's fullest bursting bloom
a physical pinnacle

she half-wished, looking into her reflection
she had made better use of it -
it had been a life of capricious tending

she sighed. 
shrugged her shoulders.

after all

these five years plus, she had put away childish things -
not much time to worry about
youth and beauty and fleeting concepts like, "prime"

she turned her head from side to side
eyes fixed and calculating -
a voice inside her warned,
'this is as good as it is going to get'
which she repeated aloud

she shook off the moment
walked away from her youthful face.
she thought she had accepted the reality of it all-
that she would be okay with it.

ah, yes

it is easiest to accept the inevitable wilting
on that florid day
when you are the fieriest bloom on the bush.


(Happy Birthday Dear Tim, who is sure to be out on a run about now, and looks decades younger than he actually is!  Love you, Dad)