The Middle Age

I have a predilection for melancholy,
a generous bent toward nostalgia,
and I surrender completely to 
isolated flashes of memory 
in the gloaming. 

I’ve spent hours in meditation,
bending toward the present,
then settling into a place
of peaceful nothingness
in the moment.

I’ve loved so many ways,
the love of blood, and the
love of heart, and the love
of so much more and 
so much less.

I’ve aged into a life I like,
a daily rhythm that fits
a soul like mine, that craves 
both experience and time 
to write it.

I am middle-aged, no longer
a tree climber or a speed demon,
no longer willing to play fast
and loose with your heart
or mine.  

I have learned the lessons of
my time, and I have become
less of what I wanted and 
more of what I needed, 
and I’m happy.

But sometimes in the half-light
of dusk (one can’t meditate
every moment) I think of 
days long gone, and I 
remember you.  

© 2020 Deb Moore,  All Rights Reserved

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