It feels like the waiting has ended.
I no longer know where time goes.
Wherever it is, it has left me behind
as I follow paths no longer known.
Forgotten perhaps, known paths and I,
or should I say me?
A ghost to those I no longer see.
Such freedom is golden, as is my age.
I hammer another nail into the boards
building an enduring new stage
for the play to go on.
A new script takes shape
on pages of print awaiting new actors
to bring me alive as I sprint
to unknown territory
devoid of all glory.
Welcome, indeed, a new stage for my play.
What better way to spend each new day.
annarino writes 