time wrinkles with no warning        i was 5 years old running through sprinklers 
gleefully staining my mouth bright red with cherry popsicles        in a blink i was 10 years old
        weaving threads for friendship bracelets        and perfecting my signature
i read a book         and i was 15,        drawing angles of eyeliner and pressing my nose
        against the mirror        because if i get close enough i might find out who i am
i drank a cup of coffeee and now i'm almost 18        it feels like time is laughing hysterically
        in the corner        cackling that life is happening to me        i forgot how easy
living was supposed to be after i        lost friends and secrets i was supposed to keep       i'll turn
       to see who called my name and i'll be at my graduation        wearing a cap and gown and 
stole and medallions and cords and tassels        standing on the grass next to the 
        graduating class        hot and annoyed        barely able to stand in my high heels
without breaking an ankle        it will be happening to me        and all i will be able 
        to do is breathe        and maybe cry a little for the lost years        but i know
there will be many more        and at some point i will flip my tassel to the other side   and i'll
        be 30        i once wrote a poem about who i thought i would be      at 30
i didn't have any faith in my ability to love myself        and i still don't, but
        i've learned how fast time goes        speed and lightning and wind rushing in our ears
six years flew by in a single twirl around an empty ballroom        i missed the corsage
        but saw the pictures        the narrative rose into the sky like a balloon i let go of
it slipped from my fist like a shiny string        and although i was 17 and mourning
        delirious drives        i felt like that 5-year-old again        standing in my princess dress
staring at the ground where my ice cream fell        my dad was already sharing his ice cream
        but i still saw the shadow of spilled milk        i tripped over the stairs
and found myself writing this poem        a weary traveler, a wary teenager, a world turned over
        again and again.