Fifty-five-- it’s a speed, and it’s an age. I wondered if the two are connected. When you’re fifty-five do you travel along
life’s highway at a pace that’s not too slow or not too fast? Is it the perfect
speed for the middle path?
Maybe--
until the lane changes.
Traveling at
55
I
wouldn’t be who I am now,
if
I hadn’t been who I was then.
As
if I can define either time,
now
or then,
or
any form,
who
or what,
or
any possibility,
when
or if.
Long past is discussion of
who I want to be,
waiting,
for who I might be,
for who I might be,
or consideration of
who I should be
or could be.
Now,
there is just me-
unimpeded by want,
or wait,
or should,
or could.
Now,
there is just living-
the now and the then,
the who and the what,
the when and the if-
just as they are,
just as they may be.
- lkr 2015
Awesome poem. Great description of reaching this mark in life.
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