The one with the birthday

"She's too young," they say.

Surely, you must be speaking of her playful demeanor toward everyday life. Or is the supple skin that sheaths her heart and soul full of innocence? Or perhaps you're talking about her unbridled compassion for the ones near and dear to her heart.

"She's too old," they say.

Then surely, you must be speaking of her graceful strides through space and time as she carries on with purpose. You must be speaking of her exceptional competence of what truly matters as a human being. No, it's likely her ability to cast a protective shell of comfort and security when a battered fellow seeks her guidance.

She's the perfect age. Twenty-two. A beautiful entity founded on twenty-two years of varied life experience full of ups, downs, lefts, and rights. All eventually having led to a crossroad I happened to be stumbling on. And I haven't stumbled so happily since.

 

This poem is about: 
My community

Comments

melzsummer

A poem spoke with love. 

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