28

a year is a number

that holds in its cracks

a million meanings

and life is just that

moments tied together

with mismatched bows

painting you a picture

in a museum with rows

and rows

of winding roads

all leading back

to the ways

you’ve touched

other souls

-

sometimes

I weep

out of sadness

and gladness

flip through

old memories

deep in some book

i’ve lived thousands of lives

loved double that count

if only i’d realize

and remember to look

-

outward

I spread outward

touching fresh paint

leaving marks

on the walls

of so many hearts

I can’t help it

it’s instinct

it pumps through

my veins

to share moments

sweet moments

through friendships

through pain

-

28 is the year

i’ll remember

to notice

life and its splendor

a culmination

of moments

all this to say

I know it’s not perfect

lord knows I will fail

and still know

it’s worth it.