#553-Reflections
04/02/2019
Wet mornings.
When the world slept.
I owned the streets.
And stared,
Into life’s mirror,
Doubt-free.
I love the past.
It feels warm,
Sometimes bittersweet,
Yet mostly happy,
For having been.
The future’s imaginary paths,
Are mirages I shouldn’t believe.
Yet it still scares me,
Thinking of mountains to climb,
I cannot see.
