in my mind, i am always 20 or less


Quietly night comes on
glory glow clings to windowsky and
Still
Still
Even softer the air
Carries
John Denver
So softly perhaps it’s only my memory singing
into ruddy clouds

I, leaning on myself,
Let all of yesterday’s pictures flow by
At their own pane-full rates
I turn none away as they shine
On the waning day

Of their own accord
They fold up
And drift on

As quietly comes the night
And
I,
leaning on my
self
Smile on this.
My 20th year.

poem Written 7:00 pm July 7, 1977

7 comments

  1. Gorgeous, just gorgeous. Funny to hear yourself from that long ago, isn’t it? You’re essence is the same. Also evidenced by that photo of you in the cowboy hat. Adorable! Well done, all! ***mcb***

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