Age

Leaning against her bicycle 
a young lassie browses her phone;
her eyes remain on the edge,
watch the world watching her.
Yes, she likes it these days.

I, her once, a cloud as well, rained
on this plain and thought the streams
were my limbs and the sea was 
a mass of my desires in flesh.
The world too, rowed dinghies on my chest.
Now the girl watches, sees us, me, 
vessels scurrying in and out as she 
opens her glistening blue for the movements.