There is a wry smile on my lips
As I watch my friends turn 30.
I saunter towards that mark,
Not particularly interested in
The honeycombs that are only behind me
Not overly concerned with the pools
That will mirror gravity, ahead
I am just sauntering towards 30
Feeling that this time, this decade, will be more mine
Than the previous ones
Proud of my friends who enter this state
In all sorts of diversity
Praying we will remember to tell our daughters,
If we have them,
That there is no such thing as grown-up.
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