An ageless soul still is tethered to the aging shell holding it.
I don’t fear time and gravity taking its toll,
I just fear welcoming it —
accepting it,
while I sit on a porch swing,
sipping watered down sweet tea.
No spike.
No itineraries.
Just the afternoon breeze and the dwindling trees;
they sway closer to death with every sway,
just as your heart does.
Every anxiety attack,
every bound of inconsistency and accidental jolt
drags you closer to death.
What a way to celebrate living.
Dates and Cakes 