So, here you are…
creased at the edges,
laugh lines stitched
like fine embroidery
A tapestry of years folded into skin
Each thread tightened by joy, grief, and grit.
You rise slower now…
But oh, how your thoughts fly like wind
The body, yes, it complains in whispers
Yet the spirit has found its rhythm
You’ve seen love in its many disguises
As thunder, as silence
And through it all, you’ve learnt
to hold your hand first.
You are not broken…just revised.
A second draft, truer than the first.
Still flawed, still faltering
But more comfortable now in the old skin
So, love this season.
With its pauses, its poetry
Because of them, you’ve been carved
into something worthy