It seems we are at a fork in a country road by a tree.
I stand there restless. You sit down to think.
But you can’t think, not without something old and blue.
And when I find one it fits naturally.
Then all at once memories pour forth.
You tell me of times before, of dinners in Rome and fruit-picking in Virginia.
Of busy city streets and quiet country roads.
Like this road on which we wait, not knowing where to go.
You tell me not to worry, big things are coming.
It seems we’ve been here forever, never more than a day..
But I know tomorrow will be different.

Another day. Yesterday. I asked what you wanted.
You said you didn’t know. A bag, a suit, something borrowed and new.
I wonder how did we come here, does it make sense to those looking in.
I’m never quite sure are you happy, are we happy.
Just two people on the country road, not knowing where to go.
I ask again about those other times, of times yet to come.
Of numbers to be counted and voices to be heard.
This can’t be all I say and to my surprise you agree.
You get down on one knee.
It’s time to leave this mess behind, will you marry me?
We take the fork. We’re leaving not waiting, together.

1 Comment

Linear

  • Herohshima  
    Lovely. Very subtle. Those self-important poets were too busy preening.

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