I am childhood running with long legs and bare feet plotting my escape beyond the city limits.
I am a dark summer night
a twinkling star
a wish and a wonder
a dream undetermined…
I am restless and reshaping the age of adolescent pain!
A rose in bloom, an unsettling sense of self, provoking attention unholy, both powerful, and, shamefaced.
I am Indian summer, girlhood in flight, my rite of passage into womenhood a sunrise not to celebrate.
I am women matured, a high tolerence for pain, so high the tolerence it injuried the gains.
Round and round and round I go falling into the holes I’ve know before.
I am now the age that bought about the change sidestepping the holes bone weary from the pain.
A new rite of passage is speeding ahead a one way ticket into the third age.
Pain left roots deep in my soul the change sprouted wings restoration claimed.
I am the splendor of the rose resurrected to full bloom and free from the pain of a life more young…