01-06-2016, 10:59 AM
Long before I knew
what older meant, or
that confidence has little
to do with what you know,
I was like a young sparrow
who gathers twigs and hay
and bits of twisted twine,
only to build her first nest
too high for late spring storms.
Her eyes caught instead
by the gleam of white capped
mountains far away,
foolishly seeing them
as an easy flight to fly.
Long before I knew what older meant,
or that confidence
has little to do with what you know,
I was like a young sparrow gathering twigs and hay
bits of twisted twine,
only to build her first nest
too high for late spring storms.
Her eyes caught instead by the gleam
of white-capped mountains far away,
foolishly seeing them as an easy flight.
It seems time’s quality was
skewed back then, when glimpses
of other women’s children
never made me cry
and thoughts of my future
were as insubstantial as
the first sight of peaks seen
across a featureless plain.
It seems time’s quality was skewed back then,
when glimpses of other women’s children
never made me cry
and thoughts of my future were as insubstantial
as the first sight of peaks
seen across a featureless plain.
The time
between then and now
has blurred, and
I’m not sure
when or how I knew
it was the distance
that tricked my eye.
The time between then and now has blurred,
and I’m not sure when or how I knew
it was the distance that tricked my eye.
Just a couple suggestions for thought and some line break changes for flow…
But please know that this is a beautiful piece as is and it touched me on a very personal level… Thank you so much for sharing it.
TB
what older meant, or
that confidence has little
to do with what you know,
I was like a young sparrow
who gathers twigs and hay
and bits of twisted twine,
only to build her first nest
too high for late spring storms.
Her eyes caught instead
by the gleam of white capped
mountains far away,
foolishly seeing them
as an easy flight to fly.
Long before I knew what older meant,
or that confidence
has little to do with what you know,
I was like a young sparrow gathering twigs and hay
bits of twisted twine,
only to build her first nest
too high for late spring storms.
Her eyes caught instead by the gleam
of white-capped mountains far away,
foolishly seeing them as an easy flight.
It seems time’s quality was
skewed back then, when glimpses
of other women’s children
never made me cry
and thoughts of my future
were as insubstantial as
the first sight of peaks seen
across a featureless plain.
It seems time’s quality was skewed back then,
when glimpses of other women’s children
never made me cry
and thoughts of my future were as insubstantial
as the first sight of peaks
seen across a featureless plain.
The time
between then and now
has blurred, and
I’m not sure
when or how I knew
it was the distance
that tricked my eye.
The time between then and now has blurred,
and I’m not sure when or how I knew
it was the distance that tricked my eye.
Just a couple suggestions for thought and some line break changes for flow…
But please know that this is a beautiful piece as is and it touched me on a very personal level… Thank you so much for sharing it.
TB