I have walked too far to feel alone.
I have come too far to turn around.
The gooseberries of my childhood yard;
I can still taste them in Summer
and feel the itching coming down my arms.
I have grown too old to feel awkward or ashamed,
although that is my tendency at parties and on stage.
I promise to do better in the next year.
But I have waited too long for this future,
to allow myself be delivered by my fears.