turning eighteen in the sweetest, slowest way I can,
with memories of the past, with dreams of the future,
with laughs, with sighs,
stolen hours and borrowed time,
all of them.
and two, two is perfect.
just you and me and the lake stretching out before us, beyond us.
and our yesterdays running side by side, touching sometimes, tangling sometimes.
and our tomorrows flying ahead of us, above us,
wings brushing, talons locking, together,
us against the wind, us against the sun,
us, just us.
oh, but what's eighteen, what's seventeen?
another year slips by, slicker than rascal, smoother than criminal,
and i've hardly got my grips on it before it goes by
and now, eighteen? already?
so soon, too soon
am i ready?