I saw it all in that moment. My life as a winding road: Hairs grey; Smiles crease; Friends who came; Friends who went; And you. A symphony of bird song; A hell of sleepless nights; The laughter of my children; Goodbyes I’ll dread forever; And love. Do stories die when they’re told? Does a life lived live on? I see the horizon. I feel my scars. Though less than yesterday, perhaps.