I am 37:
Writing a poem I wonder of the words
And an echo forms into my very fabric,
I sit in my chair and the pen begins;

I am 12 years old
And mother is dying in front me breathing
Her last breaths as a bullet takes her from me,
I see the quarter moon and pray for mercy;

The quarter moon stands in a night
Filled with wonder and
I am 32 years old when I find out my
Daughters exist, all that came before
Comes together in the moment I find
Out they are mine;

And the moment is an algorithm
Of change that never really changes,
I am 15 years old and she looks deeply
Into my soul and tells me she is ready,
I enter her,
The time is phosphorescent;

In the afterglow
I am 47 and I have not yet begun
To live, but my days are ending
Because I could not control my urges
And the alcohol eats my liver as my daughters
Cry for their father;

My daughters cry for their father
Reaching out to me,
And I am 34 years old when I see
That this is something to cherish and
I immerse myself into the moment
And all things seem to stand still,
Timelessness, yet it all must pass
To become forever;

I am 37 years old,
All stands still.....
The years passing away.

Our arms swung out
Like gills breathing.
We lived for our sucess with numbers and
We faced our bully's wet white hands.  
Our river!  You gave you gave
And we always came.

soon twenty five more
as if years felt like a
rush to not fall down
those grey drips
who cancel words like
bare naked eye or pleasant
life.  Never get the chance.

I stole
the idea

I must confess

I plucked it
from the station

I have
no regrets

It was mine
for the taking

all mine
all mine

if anyone
says it's not

I'll say
they are lying

they're lying