The Thunderstorm of Aging

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Abstract

tentative sprinkles to torrential downpours.</p><p id="632e">Sharing stories is our life purpose, poet’s dream.</p><p id="4f4f">Sandy beach’s offering: tumultuous stormy sea postscript —</p><p id="cbff">sunkissed granules of warming reassurances cradle our tense bodies while ocean waves kiss our feet, lap our legs, our bodies our immeasurable lives lived.</p><p id="c184">We survive as one microcosm — separate together.</p><p id="1b06">Our brain waves cascade, collide soothe, subside</p><p id="f162">immersed in the great learning cosmic experience milky way galaxy moony night.</p><p id="5718">If life is but a dream, what happens when</p><p id="b523">we awaken?</p><p id="c8a2"><a href="undefined"><b><i>Aimée Gramblin</i></b></a><b><i> has a poet’s heart

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and mind. Even her essays contain poetry. It truly is part of her bone marrow. Read more of her work <a href="https://aimeegramblin.medium.com/">here</a>.</i></b></p><div id="40be" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/write-for-the-lark-525aba334680"> <div> <div> <h2>Write for The Lark</h2> <div><h3>Submission guidelines for a short story and poetry publication</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*ozt7BP__wDxNylJnDZLoDg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A poet’s reflection on growing older

Growing decades-old is a strange thing — it feels good in waves like a thunderstorm’s preamble.

Emotions seep out of our bone marrow — tentative sprinkles to torrential downpours.

Sharing stories is our life purpose, poet’s dream.

Sandy beach’s offering: tumultuous stormy sea postscript —

sunkissed granules of warming reassurances cradle our tense bodies while ocean waves kiss our feet, lap our legs, our bodies our immeasurable lives lived.

We survive as one microcosm — separate together.

Our brain waves cascade, collide soothe, subside

immersed in the great learning cosmic experience milky way galaxy moony night.

If life is but a dream, what happens when

we awaken?

Aimée Gramblin has a poet’s heart and mind. Even her essays contain poetry. It truly is part of her bone marrow. Read more of her work here.