Not ready for the rocking chair,
Motion in one plane,
Forward and backward,
A monotonous refrain.
My life is not a neutral,
A gray or beige or buff.
Nor is it full of glitter,
An accent is enough.
It’s not a quiet whisper,
Nor a blaring horn,
Not a jittering staccato
Or dirge with which to mourn.
But a palette of all colors,
A symphony of sound.
Never dull or boring, but…
On new adventure bound.
My heart resonates with your poem. Beautifully captures this time in our lives.
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