Quiet

The day that I turn old.

Breath. Deep. Sweet.

Intoxicating air surrounds and I lie undone in the tickling grass of memory. Shapeless and floating life passes through my mind. Old and alone I am still in the face of time.

Breath comes and goes.

I cannot catch it, stop it, remember when it began.

Steady, deep and dark like the catacombs of a woman's mind. Dreams that once were, lie crushed beneath the waves of life and I would be still, but for the breath that clings me to this place.

I once danced in the arms of a man, beneath an open moon. Bled in the birth of life. Leapt at the sound of a song. I held the hurting, comforted the dying, whispered peace while I checked the monsters under the bed. Bold and filled with color my days were sweeping by, in joy and passion. Unable to hold tight the web of life created. I swallowed whole the sweet fruit and drank deep the nectar of each day.

At last all has faded, the colors of blue and gold now grey. The noise that once echoed so sweet, grates as it calls to another. The life I created now creates and I am simply a shadow too quickly fading, before my breath can cease to be.

In and out. Then out once more.

And at last my time will come.

I will cross those distant shores and dance in the light of the moon, with the man that never once I ceased to love.