(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.