What have I got?

What have I got to offer?

I am coming to the end of my innocence,

And I have nothing to show for it.

--

Love of summer rains,

Cool autumn breezes,

Chilly winter afternoons,

Falling petals of spring,

--

The love of the thrill of thunder,

The softness of grey moth wings in the night,

Naked blades of grass against my skin,

Heat of the fire in the rusty bin,

--

Love of tear drops of dew,

The thin spidery webs shining silver in the morning light,

The beat of bare feet dancing in the desert sand,

The rough bark of a familiar tree against my back,

--

The love of the shining stars,

The welcome of the back porch light,

Our joyful voices echoing in the silo,

The sweet crunch of buffalo grass between our lips,

--

Love of the hunt,

The squeal of victory,

The tears of loss,

Humming in loneness,

--

The love of the coolness of ice cubes,

The soft pad of fleeting feet,

Warm sleeping sheets,

The comfort of mothers’ arms,

--

Love of friends company,

Sharing secrets,

And being betrayed,

And those rare moments of tears as they hold you tight.

--

Yes, memories,

All I have.

But is that enough?

Is that a description of life?

--

Are my memories enough to give?

Are my memories enough to share?

Are my memories enough to show,

Of a life lived?

--

The loves I have known,

The memories,

The tears,

The disappointments and failures,

--

I suppose you could call that life.

Yes I have lived, I have experienced life,

I am experienced,

But you can’t put memories and feelings on a resume.