A half of life gone, with the hope of half to go

[michaelboy]

In some passing afternoon, with arms covered in paint, you apologized for being tattered, bare-legged and t-shirted.
Yet beauty comes from places wrapped with your effort and not some shiny display or a fine-feathered hat in a window.
I yearn for added years, but the now never empties into then, and only more and gloriously hopeful into will.