by Richard Vince
There was a time when I could
Spend my hours lost in words,
Surrounded by countless treasures
That would never be mine,
Secrets I would never learn.
Her life is yet to grow so large
That the spare space disappears:
Her eyes are free to wander as she
Whiles away the weeks of
Yet another holiday.
She keeps a steady bookcase and a half
Behind me as I flit from letter
To letter, list in hand, conscious
That my time is limited.
She could do this all day;
Twenty years ago, so could I.
Is it too much of a coincidence,
Or has my imagination finally
Grown the self confidence I so
Sorely missed all those years ago?
If it has, both it and she
Are twenty years too late.
Alone and amused, I leave her
To enjoy the simple pleasures of
Youth, and remember how much
Happier I am now than I was then.
Posted on 05/18/2019
Copyright © 2019 Richard Vince