You said your gray hair brought you distinction
but I knew it was the wisdom in your gaze
and the heartshine through your smile.
As for gray,
Know that where I come from
gray clouds make me sigh in relief
as they hover across the face of fire.
We both held babies in the dark of night
looking through the window for a light in the distance
So we know
Time and its habits, like ivy grows on tree trunks, all the way to the top;
Perceptions and their peels of opinions and emotions;
Then layers of cloth weaved against the light,
and I spoke to you in simple words about my winter sun and its children flowers.
We talked about the young, for I do not know the old
Time will come for me. It always does.
I cast bricks from your soil
and build a bridge to your doorstep.