It was not until I saw
In my reflection something hard, blunt
I had not noticed, but had known 
Down in parts of me 
Buried but felt 
As my own tide turned 

It was not the water’s edge 
But clouds, those soft 
Open hearts, playing, dancing 
In space, with time, that I knew 
Parts of me had come to their 
end 
 
It was no stretch to suspect
That I too 
Would age as those 
I watched and wished 
With youth 
I would not be 

Yet what is to really know
Other than the passing of 
Days and their heavy 
Weight on those parts of us 
That wish to fly in the 
White puffs up there