Day 51 (Respect your inner child.)

Open the door, little hands. 

Each one the same and never similar. 

My impression changes as

they age. 

A little voice develops in my mind,

and memory enhances its patina. 

Yet, when I greet you, old friend

I expect you to be unchanged. 

By some mystery of human nature,

you stay the same.

How do I unlearn you enough

to see you, old friend,

when I look in the mirror.