Upon Becoming 55

Already it’s Thursday.
Days melt together
as quickly as
chocolate squares
in a warmed copper pot.
Tomorrow never came so fast.
And Yesterday never
started at 10 p.m. today.

The future is here.
And the past seems
a hundred years
to the left of then.

Where does that leave me?
Standing on the corner of now,
Feeling the days drip between my fingers
like a handful of water
scooped from a murky pond on a clear day
and still
I’m grateful.

© 2005 Stanice Anderson