It was a tepid night for a walk,
last-minute shoppers would agree
Moses could split the sea into two
but I could only walk one path.
Cutting the throng looked ominous enough
but my legs were Spartans.
As I cross the street, an old passerby
was sitting on the lonely bench.
He must've whispered to himself as he saw me in almost a dance, rushing
'here was a desperate man
bobbing up the pavement,
eager to meet the woman
but he lacked time,
or time was lacking, as ever,
this city keeps him time-less,
not timeless,
but time-less,
the giggles of strangers would not allow him to relax that she might not have left, and is faithfully waiting.
But she must've went home, young man, everyone despises waiting.
There is a reason the Colloseum
was in the center of the city.
Gladiators lacked time,
shortcuts are appreciated
but you are time-flawed.
Absence gnaws another absence,
this city would teach you that.
And I don't give advices,
My shadenfreude, you see, old age gnaws old age, I never learned how to bend time.'
Disaster came on time, while I was late, it was good to hate the insolent strangers, including the old passerby
who must have whispered an ill omen.
Standing there, the wind slapping my face, I didnt reach you again.
I guess everyone despises waiting.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryOur hearts are brave as fire, minds gentle as earth, dreams are fluid as water, and our souls are as free as the wind. (Poetry and Prose) #2 of the end-live-begin trilogy.
