What I wouldn't give
for the knees of a 20 year old,
the mind of a 70 year old,
and the heart of a newborn baby.
A Frankensteined masterpiece of
understanding and openness
who can still go
up and down those stairs
in the apartment
like a champ.
I think it's natural to yearn
for facets of our former selves
and what we suspect our future selves to be .
Life is full of a whispering mysticism.
Surrender.
Place a mirror up against
your self image and compare:
is the damage that you feel visible,
or can it be that
what you've been sensing
this whole time is
a trait we all share?
The broken night,
the rush of time gone by
so effortlessly,
the accumulated aches,
wrinkles, small humorisms
tracing a well-worn face...
the universal mind fuck of aging,
it comes for us all
if we're lucky.
April Ridge lives in the expansive hopes and dreams of melancholy rescue cats. She thrives on strong coffee, and lives for danger. In the midst of Indiana pines, she follows her heart out to the horizon of reality and hopes never to return to the misty sands of the nightmarish 9 to 5. April aspires to beat seasonal depression with a well-carved stick, and to one day experience the splendor of the Cucumber Magnolia tree in bloom.
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