How can this be
I’m ticking a box 49-54!
Tides have long eroded this shore
contours collapsed and new lines drawn
but I could still pass for young
if the lights were low and youthfulness
wanting to be someone.
Suddenly slowly the wheel has turned
beneath this moon
tectonic plates creep
twisting bones as I sleep
eclipsing projections of lives dreamed for
and childhoods that never were.
In most rooms now I’m the older one.
My to-do lists mostly done.
Wondering what now whilst knowing
there is no ‘there’ there,
only here and
I turn my face to the sun.