Become

Softly we steal
Round the bends of growth
And learning,
Hoping for soft carpet,
Adequate lighting,
The end in sight.

The end – in sight.
If we could see
What we will become
Over time,
What soft steps would we then
Take:
If any.

Round hard-edged corners,
Now,
Crying like babies
That are wise with the knowledge
That old age brings,
And hoovering
And bulb-changing.