Version 2


Way back in our salad years,
our endings were all sealed with tears
as each successive love affair
popped like a bubble into air.

Now that we’ve earned our seasoning,
more endings end in reasoning.
We understand that all things end
as lover, father, daughter, friend

begins to go the way of all
who stumble, falter, fade and fall.
It is the fate that’s given us,
with all our stories ending thus.

Accomplishments, possessions, love
are like the fingers of a glove
that, when all our work is done
peel off each finger, one by one.

Empty-handed, we leave this life–––
its pleasures, loving, stress and strife––
to join the welcoming arms of air.
To discover what awaits us there.

This morning, I awoke to the line, “Way back in our salad years,” running through my mind.  The next lines occurred as I let the dogs out and stumbled back to bed. I completed the poem before I looked at the daily prompt, and although it doesn’t meet the exact prompt, it seems to go along with the title of “Builds Character,” so here it is!

6 thoughts on “Airborne

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