Yearn for a moment in him.
Yearn for a moment in the past,
a moment when you were young and careless,
or perhaps just less bitter.
You're locked in a war with yourself,
yet you'll never win, so you cry for your own vanity.
But you're just another image of him,
a distorted facsimile of an original that can't be beat,
but was never as perfect as it seemed.
Keep looking at that clock, as if it will save your soul,
as if it will save you from the day to day drudgery--
an existence you despise, but want so much to love.
Every hour is longer than the last,
and though you think you are smarter than you were
a decade ago, you don't feel any closer to the wisdom
necessary to find even a moment's peace...
but for knowing that he, at least,
is at peace.
© Kerri Jenkins, April, 2005
