Mr. Potential

You and me Kiddo. I’d say. And you’d say you and me Mama, forever. We were out there, making our life together. But four years of each other instead turned out to be enough.

 How funny it is 
when things so ordinary
become so beautiful
when it’s the last time
you’ll ever see them.
 
How funny it is
to miss the potential.
What could have been
instead of
what actually was.
 
Two elderly hands touch each other
Worn in.
Rocking back and forth
on chairs
on some dusty porch
in Utah.
 
There.
We planted gardens using half buried
clay pots and grew
ourselves our herbs.
We had three children and a Black dog
named Fluffy.
 
You and me Kiddo.
I’d say.
And you’d say
you and me Mama, forever.
We were out there,
making our life together.
But four years of each other
instead
turned out to be enough.
 
I miss those old
fantasies
of ours.
And how we promised
we’d grow old somewhere
in the middle of nowhere
with nothing
but each other.
 
Too late or too soon.
It already happened.
We already did.
We did grew old, darling.
We grew up
and grew old
of us.