Small grains of brown,
Loosely scattered about the land,
They have always been there, patiently waiting,
And they always will be.
A life behind,
Fresh, new, untouched.
A life in which only one thing is certain;
It accepts some seeds,
Swallows the others,
And emerging from the soil,
Bending toward the light,
Searching for water,
One way or another,
They must all grow.
A planted seed,
Light, soil, air, and water,
And an almost eternal wait,
As thoughts chase time.
Simple nudges here and there,
Reaching to the sky chasing its dreams.
Family, friends, enemies; a life,
Bursting at it’s seams.
For the wind shall never cease,
Even when darkness falls,
Excitement, chaos, panic, despair,
Until all of a difference, give.
Sometimes preceded by the wrinkles, the withers,
The shedding leaves and hair, everything.
Sometimes so sudden,