April #3

Looking back
at all these things I've done,
I flip pages
in photo albums
which I realize I am now thankful
for keeping.
I read old poems
that I wrote years before,
most of it
mediocre at best.
But still I must appreciate it,
its inherent value,
as a record of who
and what and where
I was in life.
Oh, how we change, how we are all
so mutable with time and love and life.

I have one prayer, and that is for you,
my constant, my rock.
Let you not change from me.