Villanelle

I walk too slowly or too quickly

I get confused, forget my destination

My feet are sore, my voice is sickly

So that you, my better, can’t evict me

I stop to rest, I don’t call this my station

To which I walk too slowly or too quickly

I still wonder how or why you picked me

I will not be entirely your creation

Because, you see, my feet are sore, my voice sickly

Although I hear in you how much you miss me

You still grill me for inside information

About how I walk too slowly or too quickly

You speak the truth – you have no need to trick me

And I feel no need to end the conversation.

I repeat: my feet are sore, my voice sickly

So something in us both knows what is risky

But is anxious, now, to start the celebration

Yes, still: I walk too slowly or too quickly

My feet are sore, my voice sickly

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