Pink

You’ll take away my grey hair, you will. Magically. Replace each one with the perfect shade of pink champagne. And I’ll be sixty like that. And smiling big from our gentle conversations.

You’ll have my willing green eyes, you will. Automatically. Value simple bike rides without analyzing the weather. And the air in your wings. And so what when the rain pelts your seasoned skin?

You’ll battle my worst tendencies, you will. Tragically. Celebrate the good and bad of them. And together, we’ll love the humble. And Conqueror will be your second middle name.

Shall

An angle you’re at, you are

Do you do it,

Position yourself that way

Knowing, waiting, at long last, for the day

My eyes will recognize the proper approach?

Not Illegal

We ache, don’t we

Our trudging, persevering waves

Our praying to not fade away into the vintage

We make you hurt, all we want

The warmth of some sun wrapped so permanently around us

That the days of being exposed and cold….

And alone

In the heat

Be behind us

Can you do that?

I will not fear you and where you may take me

What you might say or whether it offends the offenders

I only know that this is a golden year

And I, a golden girl in the making now, must embrace it

Vortex

A beautiful jigsaw of a puzzle

Jagged

So Puzzling

Most diligently contemplated

Crafted

Then Completed

Thrown to the air as confetti

Despite

In spite

I, now called to intentionality

Investigate

And restore

Prospector

I am never going to tell.

I’ll talk circles around them when they inquire and railroad them as they pry. I’ll question their questioning, “Isn’t it obvious?” I’ll ask.

And should they speculate, I’ll lead them on, Westward, with the same come-hither look in my eyes that you gave me.

You taught me what I’ll teach them: Find the glory…find you’re gold.