I am a boy who’s a bit over sixty.
I am a man who has seen his own death.
My youth was spent in folly.
My life is another ones breath.
The breath of a brand new morning,
And the scent of a blooming flower.
I anxiously wait for the morning sun,
And fear for the darkening hour.
My life, it is a conundrum.
My life is a puzzle to all.
A constant, changing, stream of thought,
A riddle that’s still unsolved.
For those who think they know me,
My maker knows me best.
As that’s the one who gave me life
And also gave me breath.
Jay Olson 2010
