almost
I catch myself
as I'm walking
as the winds of time
blow past
how they
catch me unguarded
thinking thoughts
so deep they're wrinkles
patterns of the past
imprints cross my forehead
the traffic lights of time
always changing me to find
myself mumbling
on the curbside of the street
a young girl's on
the other side of the street
the wind pushes to another open
keyhole door
someone there
a version of me
is where we meet
we are standing thinking
the sound of the wind
rushing pushing us forward
I look
into eyes I once knew
staring into youth
she stares into me
astonished
at myself
Copyright October 2, 2015 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author/Writer
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World (Copyrighted Site)
All ideas/prose/poetry/rants are the expressed legal property of this Writer
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