This Morning I Met Myself

A boy
Frayed plaid trousers
Hair a mess
Rough around the edges
Eyes eons deep
He had suffered, lived, survived
I yearned to kiss him
Breathe in his stories
He grasped me with his gaze
“This morning I met myself”
I listened

A lady
Wrinkled hands
Mint-green polyester robe
Frail, withered, stunted with age
Ancient eyes, robust
She had brought life and held its dying hand
My arms wrapped around her
Absorbing her wisdom
She tipped my chin up, held my eyes
“This morning I met myself”
I listened

A notebook
Black and white marble
Spine worn thin
Cover fuzzed from carry and wear
Pages hold a universe
Battered exterior sheltering treasures within
My eyes devour the words
Ingesting their messages
Hieroglyphs, syllables, phrases draw me in
“This morning I met myself”
I listened