by Nathan Breck

Created on: August 15, 2009

So he says, he says, "Meet me here,"

And I guess I say I will, because

That's what you say: you respond,

Just like that, meet me and I will it.

But he didn't say thanks, he didn't

Ever say, "Well that's fine, that's real fine,

You're a good friend of mine, real good."

No he just says meet me and I say, well,

I will. Sit by this tree and wait, that's my way,

That's my will, to wait for a meeting made.

I've been waited on myself a time or two,

But not so much to say I'm, well, you know,

To say I'm up there or anything. In fact,

He didn't say when to meet him,

He didn't swear to be here. Maybe if

He got hungry, he'd stop for a bite;

If he got thirsty, get a girl to pull water

From the well, and talk to her of life.

He said meet me I just said, "I will,"

And now I'm waiting and it seems

Passed time: though he didn't say when,

Just said meet me, I think he'd come,

Be well enough to come, or notify, at least,

If he weren't coming after all:

Send a messenger, a smoke, a flag.

But he didn't really say much at all,

You could number what he said,

How many times, when and where:

He could even forget what I remember,

Or he could remember what he said,

What he really said, and it could be

(Maybe even more easily be) that I myself

Am the forgetful one, and maybe he set the times:

And I'm here before or beyond the hour,

I shall have skipped my time, silly

To forget such a thing, very silly.

Nor did I promise to stay, but it seems

I somehow gave my word anyway, somehow,

So oughtn't I wait? I ought, and do:

He said "Meet me here," and I said I would.

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