When we grow up
can we be wise
I wonder
I doubt it

and yet
there are some who do
some who don't
some we don't know of

no it is hard to tell
even oneself
how can we measure it
how do we know it

yet we know when we see it
or feel it or sense it
we know it

Margaret Ann Waddicor 17th September 2016

nobody tells you what it feels like to move on
they don’t tell you that the first time you kiss another boy your body will become electric
that your heart will threaten your rib cage
that your life will feel likes everything is starting and ending all at once

I spent last night
With a homeless man.
He asked to *** a cigarette,
And next thing you know,
Hours passed
Just sitting on a New York bench,
And talking about life.
He told me about his dream
To be an astronaut,
And how he would give anything
To tell his mother he was sorry.
At one point,
He put his hand on my chest
And felt my heart beating
For a few seconds.
He looked into my eyes
And asked me why I was so sad.
No reason.
I'm not sad.
It's just cold,
And I was just thinking
That August never sticks around
As long as I'd like.

He spies her in the crowd,
The girl he had hoped to forget.
Her bones are still as delicate
And her breathing
Just as shallow
As when he saw her last.
At night
She is most beautiful,
For she always raises her eyebrows
A bit higher
Once the moon shows face.