If there was something there, and all we had
could be carried, this slip-thin gently-used old love we
had used along would remain; but
this is us, the ones who had enough of the world.
And you wanted more, but I had enough.
Enough to carry and sustain, but you and
she had your minutes, while I had enough of time.
“Had we but world enough and time..” To His Coy Mistress, by Andrew Marvell.