by Sparks In Shadow
Plans change in this place, morphing faster than time’s fracturing grip on concrete and asphalt.
Here I can become young if I like, from the inside out, by sheer will. Backward, forward, circling reality’s rim, color and blessed decay push me to decide, reveling in sight before my eyes and behind my lids, propelled by dreams while awake.
I told him this. He disbelieved and demanded proof, so I brought him here to try. He stayed the same as I saw more.
Standing beside me still, no longer declaring his premature view, he waits for my silver hair to darken.
The prompt was the captioned photo above.