Edward Lee

I was never sure
of your age,
somewhat fearful to ask,
raised as I was
to never ask a lady such,
though I was no longer a boy
when I knew you,
yet some way from being a man.

I now am the age
I imagine you were then,
when you opened yourself to me,
revealing the world
and all I did not know,
but believed I did,
as people of that age do,
only admitting the truth
when they are older,
as I am now.

I loved you,
in a way,
my heart broken
by someone my own age,
and ready to be mended
by someone new,
love leaking through
the cracks that were newly joined
but never flush.

I loved you, yes,
and maybe you loved me,
if love me you could,
knowing that the decades
between us
would make any love
less sturdy
than if I had been older,
or you younger,
or maybe not at all.

And maybe you knew this,
the world less mysterious to you,
the world you showed me
and changed for me,
for better or worse.

I wish the man I am now,
was the boy I was then,
or maybe that you could know me now,
and see that the journey
you set me upon
was a journey well taken,
a journey I am glad
to have begun,
a journey I sometimes feel
I am still on.

Edward Lee’s poetry, short stories, non-fiction and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen and Smiths Knoll.  His debut poetry collection “Playing Poohsticks On Ha’Penny Bridge” was published in 2010. He is currently working towards a second collection. He also makes musical noise under the names Ayahuasca Collective, Lewis Milne, Orson Carroll, Blinded Architect, Lego Figures Fighting, and Pale Blond Boy.His blog/website can be found at

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.