Ages ago, in felt-covered booths,
a mélange oddly came together
and partied, in Colorado. In her youth.

Ages from then, in denim-stretched experience,
separate lives were lived, children came
to a few, other’s teenaged kids
procreated, cycled their genes, into
a conglomeration of the heard
and the seen. Ages ago,
when she was young…

It seems, ages ago, when she was free,
misunderstanding's downtime assumed
boredom’s shallow sight. In her youth.

Ages from when, in stretched-by-time experience,
separate lives were etched, children left
a few, other’s kindergarten kids
recreated, cycled their means, into
an organization of the herd,
and the weaned. Ages ago,
when she was young…

Erin Moen
7/16/03
Copyright 2003 ©

Another birthday (yesterday) passes without fanfare. As it should be, in her experience. She's killed another year... At some time in Life, opinions change, years flee grasping fingers, mind separates from bodied self, proclaiming its youth; ages ago, she was young. Now, she is a medley of ages, undefined, unrefined, and succinctly…human.

She used to be immortal…

She used to be Youth.

Now, she is dying.

Ages ago...she could cope.

Yet, in some way, she does have hope...

Ages from now, she will laugh, at herself.