Caducity: Ashes Cannot Return To Wood.

Chelsey van Eeden — WordPress.com

I am too old
to learn to speak
in any other voice
than my own.

I have spent
a lifetime
assembling
what I know,
who I am.

Spring’s unlikely promises.
Summer’s sweet sweat.
Errant leaves in fall.
Winter’s deathly prelude.

A life of patterns.

Now is the time
to observe one world
from the perspective
of another
passed and gone.

So many remembered things
vanished into yesterday.

I jot down words.
They disappear instantly.
It does not matter.

Action is a fading memory.

I have spoken my piece.
Seen what I had to see.

Now the familiar sound
of my only voice
echoes back comfortably,

saying:

Fall world,
just don’t
fall on me.