Fire flies.

(robin street myers)

I am getting old now.

Each day,

the flesh gives way

to forces pulling down:

an elemental movement

toward the ground

from which I sprang.

But still,

 inside,

 a skinny girl, long-browned  with days too spent in sun,

surreptitiously

resides.

She still sneaks out

sometimes at night--

and in the stillness, dark,

waits quiet

for the magic of the lights.

A breath held tight.

An endless void, it seems.

Then, from the hot dense silence,

glory screams.

A yellow beam

of joy

comes flying from the right:

and blackest night turns

incandescent,

light.

Blindly,

she runs,

that girl who once

and still is me.

Quick captures light,

holds close,

then sets it free.

I am getting old now.

But still

I chase the fiery light

that dances

through the gloom

of blindest night.

(Unknown)

***************

(Another 'significant' birthday, another semi-maudlin poem.  Thanks for putting up with me. I know it's not always easy.)

And, by the way, I love my family and my dear friends. I don't deserve you at all!