And
Where is that boy,
standing on the beach,
shyly looking away from the camera
with a cuttlefish skeleton in his small hands.
Eight years old, hair bleached white and
skin as brown as an Egyptian!
He, I, remember the moment,
the wind in his hair, surly grey sea.
Stood on another beach now,
thousands of miles away.
The same, yet transformed;
Hair darker, hands bigger,
He's not changed,
But I'm not the same.
The simple language is beautiful. It's a common experience too. That sense of disconnection to the person we once were. I read that every single cell in our body changes every seven years - so in a sense, we do become new people. Some guy tried to use that as an excuse in court though. It must have been longer than seven years since he did the crime. Claimed he was a new person. The judge didn't accept it.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Midnight.
ReplyDelete