Fireworks

A poem of reflection from an almost "firecracker" baby.

Yesterday was my birthday. I have lived thirty-six years now, planting me firmly on the side of mid-life, closer now to forty than thirty. A hard-won celebration I cling to proudly, like the deepening crow’s feet and laughter lines, well-worn rivers of joy softening my skin.

But this poem isn’t about my birthday or the privilege it is to age.

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