The years ripple out in a splash of reflections.
Some you know well, others almost forgotten.
You look to see the paths taken.
The unevenness piques your interest.
Somehow the whereabouts of consistency.
The eyes that remember you, the eyes that don’t.
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naïve haircuts 
Love the last line.
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Thank you!!
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yes, that last line is powerful; but as you get older the unevenness evens out to something resembling consistency — and there will be strength and comfort in there —
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I agree, John. Somehow it all finds some sort of consistency. Something weren’t even aware was happening at the time.
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Oh boy, “the unevenness” and “the eyes that don’t.” just brilliant.
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it’s kind of nice to know that 100 years from now no one will know we ever existed unless we take up cave panting again.
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That’s a sobering thought. But I agree, it’s kinda of freeing in a way.
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maybe all we do during our time here impacts the next phase we enter…..maybe is fun to imagine.
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Short but powerful. I love the last line.
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Thank you!!
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Great poem – we like to believe we are so much and yet are but dust on the breeze.
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