Is that really you?
I must be imagining things,
Next to me, Is that your angelic face?
Ah! I wonder!
At the overwhelming joy it brings,
Cold air,
Rushing through my hair,
Blowing over my wrinkled face,
Cuts through my mind,
Memories surge at a heart wrenching pace,
Am I not different? Have I not aged?
Am I someone else? Have I changed?
But why do I carry the same old name?
Why do I still feel, it's all the same?
I'm humbled, I accept, I feel no shame,
It's a fresh lease of breath,
As if I have been exhumed from death.
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