Patina

( a spill & scrub prose poem )
 
i:
To reminisce, each time I make the walk back through the corridors of years, in rhyme, then comes the turn I reach in tears, where now the memories go deep, and start to miss and wish to be back more than where and when it all began before.

ii:
For in the watchful wait of wax and wane, to not disdain the times for you I never knew, and therefore could not share the joy and pain.
 
iii:
Lest in the rain of words disgorged upon the dead, events for which are breath upon you, looking ever back with want and have a care, should I despair.  
 
iv:
‘Twas even then at break of when it all began, our thoughts exchanged, between the alter ego of each one in observation, cock of minds, their curiosity.
 
v:
Yet more than coy, as man and boy for girl and bitch at fever pitch, so cool in distance stance this geek romance that stood a chance, if only when each held a pen, more now than then.  
 
vi:
Feign naught display, of show that needs no prod to spare the rod, how far we’d go once out the gate, no caution’s bait, pursue and sate by calendar and clock, no time to wait as seasons pass and waste in spite the passers-by in haste, who put no stock in love, to ever mock, so do we sigh “Heavens above.”