Sometimes it is easy

Sometimes it is easy

To feel old

If I keep my eyes closed

Anything is possible.

The creak of a floorboard

Could be her

Creeping in or out

Depending on the mood

I create

When a pillow is a welcome place.

For some reason

I fail to grasp

My mind is in free flow,

Drifting backwards and forwards

Sifting through small things

Dreaming of possibilities

Moments that come and go

Before they have a chance

To register

As important.

The smell of whisky

On the breath of an old man

Standing in the toilets

Of a smoky pub

Waiting to leech on a young guy.

I remember pushing him away

Before he had a chance

To insinuate himself upon me.

Perhaps he went home and cried.

Sat all alone in his room

Wishing for the end to come

Emptying the bottle

Twisting the world upside down

To find a way to begin again.

It makes me wonder

What I was thinking

When I shrugged him off.

Drinking to forget a broken marriage

How I would tell my dad

What I would do with my life

If I let everything go.

The old guy

Was probably younger than

I am now

And as the pillow takes the strain

The thought of lying here

Waiting for the end

Is not the shot in the arm

I need.

If I open my eyes

The bubble will burst

She will have crept in

Or out

The room will be alive

Or not.

The light from the window

Invading the darkness

Waits to brighten my day

That is its purpose

I guess,

If I let it.

Gosh knows it is so easy to be old

When young, was a lifetime ago.

Perhaps I will keep fighting

To stay awake

Just for the time it takes

To be sure I am still here

And that she has gone

Or not.