Prediction

On the moonlit beach I saw her:

the woman I’ll grow to be —

barefoot in a simple dress

speaking poems down by the sea.

I thought that she might notice

as I waved my hand her way

but she was busy catching shooting stars,

eyes sparkling with play.

Her hair was swept into a bun

with wisps dancing by her ears,

her jaw and brow were joined just so

with joy lines from the years.

Her arms rose to hug her shoulders

as she walked along the tide–

there was an ease in her body

a quiet power in her stride.

I sat and marveled at her,

amazed at the future me:

a content and mighty drifter

speaking poems down by the sea.

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