Ignoring Vintage

My time has perhaps passed.

No longer getting the touch and retreat.

Only the gaze of rejection.

I’ve had this address number many years,

determined before you were born.

So, is it true ?

Lonely is as lonely does?

Such a distressing option,

Especially when your fingers

Lead your eyes in the search

For the figure you were told

Contains the reward you’re seeking.

There you go again.

Why do you always pass over me?

You do this at least once a week.

Why is it you won’t give me

A face to face chance?

I’ve accumulated the time-honored residency,

Had my passport of visits stamped many times,

Probably way more than the treks

You’ve made this way, yet…

You always ignore me.

Except that one time you stopped,

Touched, almost took me out,

But decided against it.

Why is that?

I’m modestly covered.

No bright colors to scare you off.

My outer edges might be a bit old,

A bit worn, but that all comes with

The take-away of enjoying vintage.

So…

What’s wrong with some classic age?

You’re always choosing to broaden your knowledge,

For wisdom to reveal itself.

I see it.  I read you.

And I see your eyes dart up, down, left, right,

Always being so obsessively selective.

Why don’t you ever take a chance?

Venture off the grid,

As your generation calls it?

I don’t want to appear cheeky, but…

Why don’t you think of me as a blind date.

A “chance meeting” of fun.

I’ll play along.

I’m a good listener

If you want to talk my talk,

Maybe stop being such a walk the walk.

Deal?

Oh, come now. You’re moving away again.

I’m back here.

Second shelf.

“Mrs.Dalloway”

With the dusty edges

C’mon.

Take me out.

Try a page or two.

I’m worth the risk.

Keep in mind that number

You’re looking for might satisfy

A desire for insight,

But it doesn’t guarantee enlightenment

Like I can.

And hey, just to put your mind at ease,

I’m the type that needs to remain modest,

Yet, allow all of me to sink in,

But I’m not suggesting we go too quickly.

Give it a try?

Oh, this so unlike me.

That’s it.

Come back and look me over again.

By the way, my name is Virginia.

Virginia Woolf.