I wrote a letter some odd years ago.

Painted the edges with brush strokes and doodled hearts in the margins. My naïveté
a class pet.

Time unbeknownst to me.

You’ve startled me twenty-six.

You’ve startled me.

 

I’ve made arrangements for a life I have never not questioned.

Signing my initials where I thought initials went.

My hopes evening out with my fears.

Time allotted once but never again.

I wasn’t always twenty-six.

I wasn’t always this.

 

Hey Time,

 

Did you know that you’re my favorite character and my worst critic? Growing me up
when I hadn’t asked.

Sometimes taking good care.

Other moments forcing my hand.

Could you be kind to me at twenty-six?

Could you be kind?

 

I don’t know if I should watch the sky for the hues or watch the buildings as they
change. Aging in a way that pushes me against the grain.

My unwillingness to relent on forever ago.

Time’s refusal to stop.

Alright then,

Around we go then twenty-six.

 

Around we go.