I dream,

Of aging graciously,

Humbly and gratefully, …

Turbulent days,

Are often hectic,

Stressful, …

To change,

I too need to shed,

Last year’s leaves, …

Life would be boring,

If paths were straight,

Unobstructed and clear…

There’s no need,

To compare,

Stand out, …

We live days,

Create memories,

And move on. …

A page,

Of random squares,

With indiscernible images, …

Absorbed,

In an empty world,

All my own. …

There are times,
When lost in nature,
That I see beauty, …

Not all almonds,

Shed their skin,

To reveal that, …

Removing layers,

Gathered over time,

Is a gratifying task, …

Bad days,

Come and go.

All I can do, …

Water-logged fields,

Are not a sight,

Desired, …

There are days,

When beauty doesn’t shine,

But rather fades. …

Perhaps,

He ran out of paint,

Or was simply trying, …

We planted the trees,

Somewhat against his wish.

They will not thrive here, …

Dwelling in between,

And underneath,

So as not to be seen, …

Not all doors,

Are easy to enter,

Or even reach. …

No place to belong,

And nowhere to grow,

The leaves asked the tree, …

Traveling to distant,

Beckoning shores,

Is a choice. …