TWENTY-FOUR HOURS

October 29, 2009 Candace Morris 4 Comments





One day a lifetime spans.
Conception and gestation by moonlight.
Life and birth upon
waking.  Tears bequeath teeth brings
baby words of complaint. Feed
me.  Hold
me! Love me?

Mid-morning brings the terrible-twos.
A childhood found too late and
Too early lost.
Read me a nap-time story, Fyodor.  Of a god I
just have met.  Tell this child
of a brotherly saint. Of the faith
birthed through death.

Afternoon, adolescence.
Just learned to stop cringing when Dad
makes the coffee too strong.
The rays break through
the rains and the biting chill of autumn
Air as it whooshes past bicycling feet
Too big for her awkward, unbalanced body.
Wobbling, relearning.

The sun sets as a walk
through womanhood dawns.
Yet the blood flows like never before
Productivity in pinks and projects.
The young voice forgotten.
To the florist and grocer to take care
of home.

To dinner, to middle ages.
Moon's breath and cardamom knives
through the immaturity and brings laughter and ease
into the wine bottle.

Midnight drive into convalescence.
Slumber eases the soul into afterlife.
One life, one day
A lifetime spans.
{mme}

written as a continual reminder to myself that often days carry within their skin multitudes of moods, to neither trust or distrust them, and to remember that a walk through the forest can change anything.


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