Untitled

I’ll stay there into the night
working on the brief.
Then drive home
to the sleeping house
and the wine bottle
that should remain sealed,
but won’t,
and the laundry
that I should do,
but won’t,
and I’ll drink and think
it’s not too late
to start something new,
which is mostly true
and mostly hope,
and then I’ll think:
it’s not that I’m too old –
it’s that I’m no longer young.

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