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

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