Turning Forty
You are forty now,
and maybe you don’t feel it.
Haven’t had the time
for your age to
sink into your bones.
Forty.
You still feel thirty-nine,
Sometimes eighty,
Those days you try
to do it all.
Be everything
for everyone
at all times.
Just remember:
two more years
and you’ll find
the meaning of life.
But until then,
try to enjoy
the magic of shortbread,
your favorite coffee mug
covered in scratches.
The hum of the dishwasher,
the dryer spinning,
before the house
wakes up.
Enjoy
the little wads of paper,
the strange games
your child plays—
trip wires made of
thread and tape.
Smile
through the ache
of twisting your body
and aging bones
through his traps.
Try to love it,
even if you don’t,
every second,
of every day.
This time won’t last long.
Because in a few years
you’ll be even older,
but braver.
A sorceress
with true magic
at her fingertips—
not the magician
with the colorful cantrips.
