The stories written on your wrinkled brow,
Each a poignant reminder of living,
Your expressions say more than words somehow,
Of your uncertainty and forgiving.
Of a youth of struggles and such grand plans,
Meandering feet and wondering minds,
For as far as the land and the sea spans,
Touching both danger and precious finds.
Word by word you imagine possibles,
The world’s end is but a mere beginning,
Of scenes of stages acts for your chronicles,
But distracted you fall into sinning.
What mistakes are your foolish passengers,
Restrained by fingers of certain longing,
Time passes defining parameters,
To where a new line is now belonging.
