I walk slow
as if it is too cold to walk
It’s only autumn
no icicles are hanging yet from tree branches
with stiff knees I struggle
to gain only a short distance
as if crawling
I’m not too old either
Agility is not a property of the young
I’m too young and ashamed
to realize I’ve grown old.
My Levels of Knowing
Fire, smoke and interruptions
Surround us
I found a pebble in my pocket
The entrance to the castle is open
My grandfather does not travel
He often takes me fishing
The guards sees us
We smile and walk forward
My friends are engaged in birdwatching
My grandmother sometimes hides broken pieces in the closet
When are you returning
Inside the castle with its grandeur, we are lost like kittens
We can’t rise to the day’s heights or adapt to the hours
I accept the brevity of a flower,
I am getting older.
a burst of speed
a little space opens
window wide enough
for a billion stars
birds fly away
I close my eyes
listen to music
in my mind
I feel young again
a girl on the run
a shepherd, violinist
age is a state of mind.
note: Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade
link: http://youtu.be/KMKTaLaYBB8
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