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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1463191
If life were a box of crayons.....
Once when six
I was told to color
a picture of a circle.
I colored everything outside of the circle.
I got no gold star that day.
Didn't the teacher understand
that the circle was empty?

Today is mother to tomorrow
and my yesterdays are peopled
with pregnant memories and
visions of times yet to come.

Cycles of seasons roll by
spinning ever faster as I age--
the sharpened edges of pain.
Sands falling
smooth over
the worst of the roughened times.

Tomorrows are the children of today
and today is replete with echoed shadows
layered upon misted visions
floating just beyond my ken

The circle is almost full
and the crayons are
broken and rounded:
too little left to sharpen.
Life spills over the brim
cascading drops
creating new circles.

I was never one
to color inside the lines.

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