xx twenty xx

Twenty.

(To my dear Nicholas)

 

Twenty is a metaphor:

for it crept up on you

like a rumbling beast, hunting;

its sinuous frame coiled around your body,

and swallowed whole your helpless height.

 

 

Twenty is every hyperbole:

for it is the best age to live until,

better than anything you will ever know.

There will never be a moment, quite like this,

Where everything aligns for you in this way.

 

Twenty is a performance:

for it is the intake of breath

before the curtain rises to adulthood.

This stage of your life

becomes your life on stage.

 

Twenty is the cliff of a great mountain:

for it is the precipice;

you on the cusp of bigger things.

And I, with faith like a mustard seed,

will do my best to move you.

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