Mythos & Marginalia

life notes between the lines and along the edges


April is Poetry Month

 

 

At The Time

She, she might not even notice
the beauty she hosts. She
is too busy,
caring, shouldering
responsibilities
               others
               are less bothered with.
     She says she is lost
     I am lost too.
It may not be
the same kind
               of lost
or we may
show it or feel it
differently
after all, she is a She and I am a He.

She may not even know, in fact
might not care,
     that I
     know, her beauty.
I’ve not said it, not in the way
                   she needs to hear,
the way she needs to be seen.

I said I am empty. It’s not the kind
of empty,
the one devoid
of anything substantial,
but it is an empty
that means there is space
     to fill.

     I didn’t say it.

     I didn’t say it
because I am a He and she is a She
and
we might have tried, but I didn’t enough
and God, she was brave and I
was unknowing and honest,
     and frightened.
Yes, I was scared (but I didn’t say that)
and rather than say
     I just let it go away.

Because she was that She, and I
didn’t wish to be
just another He.

I knew
she deserved more
than ever I could offer,
at least then, and I didn’t say enough.

At the time.

We all are
fighting time.

She questions her age, and I doubt mine too
and
she doesn’t know her beauty
                     but I certainly do,
So, seven days before I leave
we spent an evening
reading poetry
talking
taking the time.

Still I didn’t say it, because
she was She,
and I
was just me.
©2015 j.g. lewis

This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.