So much skin, old
Shedding shedding a shroud
Like a snake would abandon the clothing that warmed identified and covered him.
Like I would walk away from a friend and another friend that I thought would cover me
From the plague of idle boredom between college and married.
And it may be the loss of a simple coat that may be replaced.
Or it could be walking away from a snail shell home
That covered me.
And new skin must grow.
And I hear the crunch as I walk away from bits of me, or you, or the past,
Or a simple returning of dust to earth.
The walk forward leaves things behind
Ever treading on bits of the old
Thoughts, memories, and joys that I fear will not repeat.