13 days until my time in Oxford is over.
16 days until I return to America.
19 days until I'm back at school.
A poem I wrote a few years back, briefly revisited.
Don’t ask me to let you go.
I will not do it now.
I will let you go when we’ve lived
out this grinding,
future-driven life. I will
let you go when eternity shines
from the tunnel’s end.
I will let you go when I can’t help
but have forgotten who we both are
and what we might have been
back then.
Don’t ask me before we’ve watched
the sun set
and the stars break through
black curtains of the night.
Don’t ask me
before the actors bow
and the lights come up for good.
I won’t do it unless
the children are grown;
we’ve taken care of it all.
Don’t ask me to watch you leave
before the end has come.
