It is in the high places and wild spaces I see you.
There I hear your laughter echo in the hills,
Dancing on the mist, a will o’ the wisp with joyous grace,
Challenging the wind to chase you
And kiss your face.
I see you on the seashore, running through the waves
Barefoot in a winter sea, being a child because you can,
Leaving your cares abandoned at the water’s edge
Discarded like the shoes you left
Behind you on the sand.
I see you walking underneath the winter trees,
Leaving footprints in the sodden emerald moss
Frozen, fragile glass beneath your feet
As you speak of life and memory
And I watch you change.
I find you in the winter land, in snowy silence.
As a year turns, graced with tears that know no grief
And time falls from your face, forgotten trace
Of another past. I watch…
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I am not old
I am rare
I am the standing ovation
At the end of a play
I am the retrospective
Of my life as art
I am the hours
Connected like dots
Into good sense
I am the fullness of existing
You think I’m waiting to die..
But I’m waiting to be found
I am a treasure.
I am a map.
And these wrinkles
Are the imprint of my journey
Ask me anything
“I Am Not Old”
~ Samantha Reynolds
artist ~ RC Gorman
Text & image source: Woman https://web.facebook.com/fbpagewoman/
**Photos taken by Natalie; text box via the Internet; collage by Natalie
**Photo taken by Natalie; collage created by Natalie
**Photo taken by Natalie; text box via Quotes App; collage by Natalie
**Image found on Pinterest; text box via Quotes App; collage by Natalie