old things

i like to hold on
to what is ancient
both ephemeral
and concrete

i’ve been called
sentimental

i’ve been called
a romantic

i’ve been called
out as a pretender

resisting
the current age
my birth
human destiny

it is not so
strange though

that i crane my neck
backward and reach
out for what feels
like something i can
hold onto, things
i have felt,
things that have
moving parts which
click and turn and
require a little
more physical effort

i’ve been slow to
embrace this
glass-stroking age
but some things
are inevitable

some things
all things
we’ll all eventually
have to let go.

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