Little Old Me

A Poem by Cinp

I still don't really know if this is poetry or prose.

"Hesitate a moment please"
she said as she spoke to me,
"Or time may drag drag you away."
Silly girl I thought as I stepped
back.

"At least just stay to see"

she said she said to me,
like I knew not what lay
in mine own path, in mine own way.
"To see to see the possibilities."

It's a something that moves you when you look my way. As if everything else has melted melted away. Before a stained and dripping backdrop the sharp burn of your eyes, you regret the last move you made. It may be a simple equation or an inevitable conclusion or a confluence of infinities but the truth is I have to go.

I have to go.

I hate to go.

The dirty facts can muddy a simple truth but despite the best efforts of a multitude of investigations and trepidations there is no soothe. Go go go I have to go. Don't remind me I know.

"Just stay for a week, then.

Just stay for a week-end."

No no no no. The world will turn and your heart may burn but time stops for no man. Least of all little old me. One day you shall surely see that each and every possibility is like a branch from a big old tree and the trunk is you and an apple, a seed, is me. I have to go.

"A day is all I need,

And then you'll be rid of me."

A world's spin is too wide a turn for little little old me. It's a truth you'll surely know when your back is bowed and heart's all wracked from each little whispered word true.

And then and then,

It will be little old you.