and the years fall away
like pages torn noiselessly
from the skin-bound book of my life
and dropped from a magnificent height
they flutter samara-style slow
lighting upon the dusty hardwood floor
like feathers piling up softly, silently
as they clutter the the library of me
and i sift through the pages
scavenging for gilded gold
but instead i find only me
and for once, that is enough
and for once, i am enough
.
samara: the winged seeds of a maple... (helicopter seeds)