A Whole Life

A Whole Life

If my life were a book

when I was six years old,   

it would have been

at least ten pages longer

than a lady bug’s-

I have thought.

As if a fashioned spine

made a difference  in worth,

compared to a staple

made from a twig.

And a journey from a tree,

to a shoulder,

to a stream,
was somehow more profound, 

without wings.