By Keisha-Gaye Anderson

We travelers
mark bends in this journey
by new wrinkles
more grey
new mistakes
and always
the need to climb
another mountain
view another angle

What a blessed dance
this movement through
awareness
perfectly timed to
stir the gypsie of my
midnight drifting

She can fly
that me who recedes each morning
leaving these words in her
footprints

Reassures me that
home is always more idea
than place
and that smiles remain the same
even under sagging skin

Don’t worry, she whispers,
you never really lose them

They go up to come
down
with new steps

The dance continues