Time just caught a jet plane.
Today this woman turned 40.
There is no looking back at years lost;
And harboring hate from yesteryear
Is a misuse of this woman’s fresh spirit,
Fresh time and fresh vision.
And once I had awakened from that youthful an idiotic sleep
I realized the beauty of the fall
Would not last forever 
In a closed heart where no love lives
And it’s best to let leaves fall
Where they may because someday innocence
Will awaken and rake up the dead leaves
That once floated gracefully likes ballerinas
And their dance will end. 

And winter will wrestle its way
Into the life of the living
Bringing death and ice.
For I must make my own warmth
Within when winter comes—it cares
Not if I sleep blanketless against the cold
Or warmly under handmade African quilts.
It will still come and claim its season
With forceful storms and snowy days
And time will not take notice
Of those who slept away the cold days of earth
Or those who soaked up summer eves,
For time like death, will sneak up
And steal this woman’s hours of life.