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.