Magnus Grace

I want to grow up but I don’t.

But I do

but I don’t.

But lucky for me I don’t have to make that decision.

I’m forced to grow up whether I like it or not.

The thrum,

The pulse,

The ever-increasing

All-consuming

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Counting down

The end.

The

End.

We all know it.

The beginners of the beat,

Just learning the ropes,

Figuring out their instruments -

They come in, 

Wide-eyed,

And regard the older kids

With awe.

I love to be looked at this way

A grandmother bakes

A batch of warm cookies

Peppered with butterscotch chips,

A chocolate kiss pressed in the center,

For her grandchildren

Do you ever grieve something

that isn't even over yet?

It's like you know

that's it's going to be gone anyway,

that you're going to miss it

so much,