Letting myself go
and I know –
though it’s slow –
that this dragging
will just keep on going.

Such hopes you could see
were the balance of me
and this dreaming
kept all my time busy.

Passing by: time, stopped to ask:
why I was still here?
Why I was the last?
I blinked, he looked tired
then he flew on…

So cringing alone
my old brain to bemoan.
Of the others?
They grew up,
then grew on.

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