What season of life am I in?
In years I am early middle-aged,
While in my heart I swing
Between my thirties
And my fifties,
Never wanting to relive
My turbulent youth
Yet afraid of growing old
Before I have yet lived;
But haven't I lived?
How many sights have I seen,
How many paths have I walked,
And how many days have I filled
With experiences
Others can only imagine?
Oh yes, I have lived;
It is only the sharing of love
I have yet to know
That will make my life seem less
One dimensional,
Less pointless.
I do not believe in princes
Or happily ever afters,
But, perhaps, somewhere
Someone exists
Who can warm my heart
With his laughter
And fire my skin
With his touch
And make me believe
In him. In us.