transitions
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The cool wind on our faces
The happy smiles all around
As children, our favorite places
Included being on the playground
A tree, dry and maze-like,
With its nooks and crannies
Housing dormant figures of spiders, insects and whatnot . . .
As its gentle aging is noted by those in passing,
I can feel my own mortality
It seeps through my body
Sending chills to my spine
Filling in the empty spaces
A winter inversion settling in
Blanketing everything in a dull grey
I feel it in my soul
The cadence beat sounds
The floor stands still
He takes rounds
The sun comes up
The sun goes down
He moves without a frown
The moon says hello
The moon says goodbye
Transitions are never easy.
I know.
I have not mastered moving on.
You were an awkward sentence
leaving me open-ended.
I knew we weren’t over,
but to be continued…
There wasn’t an introduction.
