I'M NOT SORRY

I'm not sorry we moved
from place to place,
because there was a time for wandering,
but home is for growth,
it's just that now we get to pick
where we bury our roots.

I'm not sorry our stomachs aren't flat anymore.

I don't miss the club or spring break.
My hair is slowly turning gray
and I just realized I have never been
as beautiful as I am now,

and you are more beautiful every day,
each wrinkle,
spot,
errant hair,
imperfect shapes that build beauty
in your heart and in your hands,
in the worlds you create every day,
your eyes their holy book.

I am in love with your slow decay,
because I put it there,
in some small way.

How relieved I am,
that you are not young anymore,
that I am the bird on the land.
Our mistakes are still mistakes but
they are less childish and we don't
cry every time
we play a losing hand.