Originally written April 18, 2011 – I think it’s a poem

I’m not sure when it happened.  But I’ve aged.

something has come.  Something new but insignificant -  I thought.

I looked but hardly noticed and it stayed.

It joined in when i endevored to feel angry and it cheered me on – a little, so as to not be set apart from other sounds but encouraged me all the same as I searched and examined and confirmed my regrets

It came along disguised as pleasing sound or a reminder of a scent or a color.  I gripped it’s hand and held on as I was scared, worried, and broken hearted. It stood beside me when I examined a wrinkle and sighed with me as I am surprised that it matters.

It stood idly by as I let some of the fun in me slide out of me.

I hear myself speak to people in a way that sounds like i’m in a hurry to go some place and that everything is distasteful all the while not really recognizing the new person standing opposite the reflection.

Do I really sound that aged?  Why?

These small overlooked hooligans dance easily throuht the maise of skirts meant to detain the advancement while I kidded myself that I didn’t even care that they were there.

Then today.. I looked and saw them all..
all the signs and symptoms of being old -
woven in to my reflection -
comfortable,
like they have finally
come home.