Misgivings

I met 

Myself from another time 

On the bus on my way back home 

He whispered to me

Of all he'd seen and heard 

And smelled and touched 

And lost along the way, while

Laughing through his children's eyes and trying through his own.

His rickety finger tapped timidly 

On the windows that block the

Precarious winds that seldom blow

Bringing the same strange relief of loss 

That lasts only a moment.

With pain and with pride, 

With guilt and forgiveness, 

Sometime

Somewhere 

I knew I'd reek 

Of the same regrets,

Of the same misgivings. 

Right now 

Right here 

I knew I'd rather not.