One day I will be very old,
carrying years like stones
in bent thin fingers,
and my hair will be
the color Moon, instead
of deep-shade muddy rivers,
and Pain will be my walking cane
and I will wake alone each morning
because of what I do each day
to push away the ones who love me.
Today I am the perfect age
independent, strong,
I will not marry.
I have no time to waste
on compromise, I like
my own decisions.
Each day I find too short to finish
what I think I must accomplish
but one day I fear I'll find
the time to feel
postponed regret.
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Submission Name: One Day
