Chasing threes

Everything happens in threes, they say.
As the sun rose on season 3’s horizon
so did stage 3.
And one year and three months later
as the sun lowered itself at dusk,
so did stage 3.
I am not ready for four.
Not ready for four to be our reality.

Threes are messy and complicated.
An odd number
and I want you to beat all odds.
But it’s harder to beat the odds when you’re even.

The only even I want for you
is the one where you can say, “take that!”
Because we all know there are only four seasons,
and the only way to hit five is through rebirth.
So I am not ready for four.

Tagged with:
Posted in Family, Poetry

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