I often daydream about the woman I'll be
when i leave the rush of
my insecure twenties
and pick-up self-assurance on the way
i can't wait to make
my eighteen year old self jealous
of the hell i raise
roaring into my thirties and forties
my soul becoming
more potent with age
at fifty i'll sit with
my wrinkles and silver hair
laughing about the adventures
we've had together
talking about the countless more
in the decades ahead
what a privilege it is
to grow into the
finest version of myself
