It could be a gunshot, or the falling of rocks and snow,
awaken! you are growing older can't you see that?
Thrice thirteen, and what to show? We want to hide.
Scars, who was it gave them, who were you
to take them so willingly?
Rode your bike to the promenade
faster than the bus, the form of your body.
You were beautiful- huh- how did that happen
and how did you fail to see it?
But saw her beauty, beyond the light of a city.
In the swell of a full moon
that echoed the curve of her being
She will become a woman
and you remain a boy, even now
Two hours before 39
Written for my birthday today, and for a girl who was always a woman