Pages

 The pages of the calendar, covered with marks and dates, events and names

flip

flip

flip

I can see them in my mind. The wind blowing them away, rain drenching them, the sun drying them and leaving them like crumpled autumn leaves

Where was I in those pages?

I can feel myself, but I don't see myself when I look at them.

As I have sat in my spot, watching the pages curl at the edges and tear away from now, 

The body I am in has changed. Softened. loosened. Whispers of ache that feel familiar now, but  new at the same time.

Holding a cup of hot something, I watch, knowing that one day my calendar pages will be gone.

The pages of others will continue to fly away, filling the universe with dates and events and people's names.

Maybe that's what the stars are.