Because you always thought you were young
And it would take time sometime to catch up with you
That it would stop by and watch as you laugh
with the carelessness that only stays for so long,
the length of one a piano sonata you might have heard
when you were easing into sleep one May afternoon
And that time would understand that you are preoccupied
With struggles that you have not yet found proper solutions to,
That there are no permanent solutions, only the waiting
for it to disrupt again, for the wounds to reopen again and bleed
If only time would wait for you as you go about folding your clothes
scattered over the room after a frantic search for the perfect clothes
to wear on a Saturday evening-out, if time would wait as you take your
 leisurely walk down the tree-lined road to nowhere, lost in
thoughts of what-ifs and what-it-would-bes
If only it would sit with you while you read your book,
 you would even offer time tea and biscuits,
But it is almost two years now and you can't always be young
and irresponsible, there are things taking shape beyond your control
 and immediacy of other lives are telling you that you
have to somehow collect the best that is left of you
Because that is what you have always done.