The New Old Crux
There was no knowing
the truth of the matter,
what was, what would be,
and there is no knowing now.
The small town lights
shone in the cold, dry night,
some may have illuminated
lonely strangers and rats
or quiet lovers parting,
or strangeness in the night,
and we’d never know,
but somehow I hoped I might.
I’d never been asked
so plainly what mattered most,
and in a peculiar moment
I couldn’t say either way.
I had comfortably tethered
for fear of being untethered,
but she may have tethered first,
it was her greatest need.
The small town windows
and suburban windows beyond
glowed, each in its place,
around a person or a thing,
or people and things,
that we did not know
and surely never would,
I hoped I never would.
There remains no knowing,
what was oddly was,
I’d say I don’t and didn’t care,
but I stand alone with it now.
10th December 2018
Copyright © Lawrence Sharp | Year Posted 2018
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