Old

It’s hard to admit

That you are old

Done chasing and ready

To sit and remember

The first things to

Float are those hoped

Forgotten that sting bite

And buzz about obnoxiously

Next the lily pads

Tethered to something deeper

But seeing their beauty

As they open up

And finally clear water

Which is nothing actually

Actually it is nothing

Which are my fondest

Peaceful memories of all