Today is not from a prompt. I found out that my mother (who lives in Mexico and is hard to keep in touch with) passed away a few months ago. I think now about life and how things go. This poem came from that.
~~~~~
Someday I Will Grow Old
Someday I will grow old.
Gray hair will flow from my scalp,
and my face will be a road map
of the many miles I've traveled.
The hearts I've broken
will march in the distance
along the river
made from their tears,
but I will have forgotten
all of their names.
The mirror will taunt me
with a face I don't recognize
because time has written
sonnets in the corners
of my eyes and mouth
in print too small to read.
Someday my shoulders will turn
slowly towards the earth
in spite of my insistence
that my arms touch the sky.
My feet will be the crossed oceans'
waves cresting and rolling onto the shores
that I have seen.
Dreams will follow behind me
whispering their motives
and thanking me
for listening so they could be true.
Someday the joke will be the future.
Time looks at her watch constantly,
tapping her wrist in impatience.
Red and yellow falling leaves
marking the procession of seasons.
Youth will sound foreign
and I will laugh at their strangeness
someday when I grow old.
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