The Passage of Wisdom

Sitting on my bed, my dad in my butterfly chair I got when I was ten. He's telling me about life, and how to be mindful of others. I was doing the same thing when I was sitting on the floor with my legs crossed looking up at her tell me her story. Opening up and absorbing all the wisdom she had to live and grow through. It's the same when I'm reading texts of men who died 300 years ago. They pass me the knowledge they'd pained and labored to learn. And that's why I listen to you flutter from topic to topic on that bus ride to New York because that thing you all have in common is; life lived in years and in tears and decisions. So please, keep feeding me. I'm growing with your nourishment.