Turns

Birds fly overhead

I wonder how many

Heartbeats they’ve left,

To spare,

The blossoms dance to

The music of the breeze,

And I am on my way

Once more,

Supple and subtle,

Made languid by

Experience,

Leaving,

Returning,

All the same,

But there are turns,

Roads taken and not,

And I remain,

Myself,

To set my watch

By the truths of

Myself,

And each ticking second,

Brings me

Closer to

Further from

Home.