With practice, I learned to breathe.
The tumult of beginnings leads
to the clarity of familiarity,
giddy thoughts of youth yield
to the steady step of companions.
Along the way you learn to listen,
to take a breath before speaking,
to let bitterness die undeclared,
to venture forth with no destination.
Years impose their will, gray dominates
the mirror. Still, with the mysteries
of youth deciphered she can awaken
the fire within with merely a look.
With practice, I remember to breathe.