Momentary

To be young is to feel the grass growing beneath your feet

And wander through the woods aimlessly

To see the little, quiet things unnoticed by all else

And say,

I saw something beautiful today.

And did you know that birds have wings that make them fly?

And feathers are what make them float?

And that their bones are light as dandelion seeds, blown into the wind to make a wish upon.

To grow older is to forget the vines creeping up your wall,

To only see that they have grown too tall.

Stop thinking about the words between pages, and instead of clocks whose hands are always moving

With the time that never stops

And goes a little too slow but a little too fast all at once

I didn’t see the birds that flew above my head, because I was too busy wishing I could fly just as they could.

To be old is to wonder where it all went

Years wasted, perhaps, on things that never really mattered

But now, you notice the flowers growing in the spring

Wishing you had seen them always.

And did you notice the bird sitting upon the railing?

It has wings that make it fly

Feathers to float

And bones light as dandelion seeds, drifting up into the sky.