After Prufrock Poem by Jack Sedman

I thought it was yes
but then time took a turn
untoward and confessed: it
was no, was lost in those
simple days, so long ago.
In this steady time, thought
I, no time for sentiment
and recollection of things
half-believed, left unsaid.

But in itself now rare:
I brush the door, trip
and hang old clothes, barely
breathe in case this untold
toxic air bruise young
lungs, pure, long gone.
Love the hands pass by
And tick on tick follows
the pace of thought. Yes
placed in this perfect pit
I’d thought yes. I was wrong.