Life,
i believe,
is truly circular.
It seems as if we’re constantly rounding a curve
to another phase of our Lives.
It seems that one night we’re sitting on our parent’s couch,
drawing a face on the moon that glares through the living room window,
wondering why our hands are so much smaller than our parents,
and knowing nothing of a future of adulthood.
And then we round a curve,
and suddenly we’ve entered this new Life,
of wishing our hands were as small as they once were.
And watching our children paint faces on the moon.
Maybe these are delicacies to Live,
to round these curves of Life.
And maybe time leaves no fruit on our trees.
But I’ve learned one thing with the many phases in which I have Lived,
Life is certainly circular.