Tag: i am not one constant being

i was myself, once.
like i’ve been before;
a phoenix, fire of 
autumn leaves regurgitates
me. 
i find my voice in the songs
the river sings, 
memory like the currents. 
constantly moulting, but
keeping them in a scrapbook– 
moments with blank spaces 
in between 
stitched together to make
a quilt.
i decompose. 
sometimes i bloom with the azaleas
in the spring.