Our older selves don’t see the zit on the face
…or the hair out of place.
No, we don’t see the clothes we had to wear
…or even the ones we maybe had to share.
As bad as things might have been at the time—
We later find we’ve turned out just fine.
What we now see—
Is how we came to be.
In the end maybe all we really fear—
Is that no one will know that we were here.
Copyright
2019 © by Charlotte R. Beard
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