The Red Carpet

My life's first steps walked softly unsteady

On the plush and the lush of life's red carpet

Rolled out just ahead of me

As a bolt of circuitous what-goes-around

Before me embroidered in patterns

Made clear to me upon reaching them

.

I shake off the motes of living

As I promenade the carpet-stroll of being

And what-was falls back behind me

With the collections and recollections

Betwixt fibers and the dead skin

Of what I was and whatnot

.

It's a magic carpet I traipse

Punctuated by footfalls that burst in intervals

Eyes ahead of me, intentions driven

Steadfast and headlong haste

Hazarding the trips from unseen dollops

Woven in my textiled genetics

.

No one knows the measure of their carpet walked

Except for what's behind them

Or knows what the disturbing crunches are

Heard all too well with careless footfalls

Or knows when plush threading's replaced by eggs

And the mess they leave behind them

.

Yet, some carpets are well-worn

Before we reach those swaths unseen

We're wall-to-wall on a path upholstered

Leading us to the final palisade

Through which we fall when our rug of time

Is pulled out from under us

_____________________

Inspired by Rachel Deeming's "Old Lady" at https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/old-lady-4smp0h5s%3C/a%3E.%3C/p%3E%3Cstyle data-emotion-css="14azzlx-P">.css-14azzlx-P{font-family:Droid Serif,Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif;font-size:1.1875rem;-webkit-letter-spacing:0.01em;-moz-letter-spacing:0.01em;-ms-letter-spacing:0.01em;letter-spacing:0.01em;line-height:1.6;color:#1A1A1A;margin-top:32px;}