Life Unfinished

Where does it go

The days?

They roll inexorably forward

Warmly welcoming the sun

And bidding good night to the moon.

Where does it go

The weeks?

When smiles are brightest on Friday

Then turns 180 degrees

The following Monday.

Where does it go

The months?

When lush green transitions

To fallen browns and curled yellows

Soon coated with a thick winter’s frost.

Where does it go

The years?

When the silky smoothness

Of a newborn’s skin

Grows to receive the creases

That smooth only to the gnarl

Of disfiguring joints.

Where are we now

As we near our life’s spectrum?

The blend of days

Months and years bringing pause

Heaving deep sighs

Shutting out the spin of the world

Behind weary eyelids.

We are here.

We have arrived

Reviewing life’s itinerary

Our memories tracing

What we have yet to finish.

Talk story

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