The same

( after Rupi Kaur )
 
 
in my life as I grew less young
the joy in the anticipation  
of breaking out on my own
was always good, as life was
 
to run like the wind as the wind
and be welcomed by Gran’ma
her gentle soul knew my restless spirit
and we often shared words
 
how much the same we’d grown
as closer I’d become and knew  
I’d never have what she’d had
and she was winsome in her loss
 
how beautiful she was that way  
the tears fell bitter on our
tongues