Approaching

An ode to the third decade of life, with its youthful yearning, learning, and overcoming. Th juxtaposition of childhood and adulthood.

On the line

Of time,

I've lived to the 

Unripe

Age of Five,

Six times.

The first was fresh breath,

With affixed name

And sheer perception.

An accident with unknown depth,

From the pure and incidental space.

The second time was none but wonder,

A complexity of sensory,

Absorbing love and hate and color,

Perplexed in the notion,

To do and to be.

The third, a charm, in the arms of ease,

Where carnal comforts

Would soothe in time,

And lullabies would soon appease,

When the noise became the rhyme.

The fourth was crawling, wobbling, falling

Down to earth and meeting fear,

Seeking pity from the people,

Then standing tall where

Grins met ears.

The fifth was lessons in black and white;

Touching the stove to feel your fingers,

Though no was no and hot was hot,

Bliss was in the simple spite;

The burn that always lingers.

The sixth go-round was standing ground,

The knees and legs and feet make steps,

Therein lies the enchantment:

The demand of the momentum,

In the cracks that Time has kept.