if time’s hands move at a constant pace

what explains this bumpy ride

some days take eternities to arrive

hauling butterflies of anticipation

stirring giddy images

other days do not knock upon arrival

spinning me round

knocking me down

this day lurks in its approach

in the space of missing pages

recalling a struggle endured

a valiant battle with an inevitable end

its arrival is flanked

by memories dark and light

spirit carried by children

and abounding love from the many touched by a beautiful soul

I don’t want to run

but sometimes I hide

the growth that rides with time

feels stunted late in May

to defend against the steady ache

is a look inside to what’s been learned

hurt remains

but moving on is the only way

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