We counted months and miles , adding wishes on the calendar,
Crossing out weeks at a time, anticipating the present.
Our parents warned us about
Rips, crevices, rain and snow
Twists, scars, earthquakes and fires.
But we laughed at their fears, eager for dreams to show up
At the end of each path, each river we crossed.
Suspended between childhood and old age, we piled wishes and mementos
And counted these for each season we left behind.
Are we there yet, we shouted, adding, subtracting signposts, landmarks
Crossing out seasons far too eagerly.
At the end, we can’t even remember
The color, or the feel, or the smell
Of those days we spent in anticipation.