Narrative Counterpart:

The day bleeds through my fingers

Yearning to hold onto, what, I don’t know

It is said, to grow older is to miss the better days

Yet, my better days are the ones with breath in my lungs

The experience of curiosity

The wonder of nature

My heart creating the beat of my drum

The day is no longer bleeding through my fingers

It’s water cleansing the night

Bringing new a opportunity to live

And with that I am grateful.

-Kirsten Asher