She stands beside still waters, watching tiny ripples unseen by most,
almost not there, just simple shadows, movement…under mirrored ceilings
of magnificence, of dreams and of time curving down from the sky, she
stands beside her life and watches as it caresses and slides past.

She is part of that parade, she knows, she thinks yes she is and wonders
where the end will be, where the music fades, where children grow, where
poetry becomes single words becomes sound becomes a letter…or two, and
she feels the slide and the caress and she smiles.

The days pass, will last, will create two where one stood, where shadow
covered flowers bloom as the sun falls across the sky, where brightness grows from
dusty corners, where motion becomes meaning and meaning becomes all
that she knows, loves…and feels burning inside…without pain, without fear…

The still waters are momentary, the shadows an illusion, the music never
fades as long as she listens, as long as she knows; the sun falling across the sky
falling with her, for her, around her is the other side of the coin as it arcs and lands
on a child’s palm-on a teenagers hand-in an adult’s pocket
the same hand, different times; the same woman, different inside

she stands by still waters
and feels time
always
as a friend.