Oh, little one, for whom I have come to care,
I must leave you, now, for I am an old hobo,
A physical wreck, and a jagged mess.

You, with your future shining and wide open,
Should have no business with my kind,
With your life, truly, just beginning.

In a way, it has kept me young at heart,
To, again, peer through the eyes of youth.

But you don’t need to be looking anywhere
Near the tired, aged, and twisted.

I only hope you find someone to love you,
As much as I know you can love them.

And maybe we’ll meet in a far-off land,
Beyond the seas of time.