Spare me

O spare me the tiredness
of wisdom
of the wisdom
of knowing better
of the wisdom of knowing better than
to dream
impossible dreams.

Spare me the serenity
of the adult I became
when I outgrew
the folly
of spring.

And spare me the sanity
that traps my pain and hope
in a grey web of calm
beside stone tears
I do not shed
anguish
I do not feel
and need
I’ve rocked to sleep.

And you,
yearning
– it began with you.
Where are you now?