milestone.

a little bit about growing up and thinking back.

home towns and first cars.
so many seasons (memories) pass us right by.
in my mind i'm still sitting on those wooden steps
filled with hatred toward you and growing up.
i miss picking out flowers (lilies) to take home.
can't remember how many dead people i've seen
or how many crying families.
i'm still afraid of dying. more afraid of you dying. or you. or you.
some days its the first thing i think about when my feet hit the floor.
where do i want to be when its all over..
no more mile markers, way passed the half-way point.
i like to look up at the sky while i'm waiting at red lights
and wonder if god is looking back at that very second.
are you there? can you still hear me? do you remember me?
little girl playing piano on funeral home keys;
i never learned a thing about the piano, but a lot about flowers
and death.