Not Yet

I stole a buckeye from your old bedroom
A baseball cap, a flannel shirt, a photo of you—
Scowling in a classroom, trying to hide a grin,
Ten years younger, hair much longer, hand upon your chin,
And I can see a beard that’s making threats of growing in,
But not yet.

You took me out to meet your hometown friends
And every face, it matched a name, and I knew the stories—most of them.
I thought I saw your name etched in the table at that bar.
I pictured you engraving that lovely little scar.
Your mark is near as permanent upon my heart,
But not yet.

All in good time,
That’s what they tell me.
You only learn if you keep going.
But the deeper we “go,”
The deeper I fall,
Even though I’ve got no way of knowing—
Not yet.

And as we’re driving down the back roads home
You pull over, quiet the radio,
Turn to me and look me in the eyes,
Start to speak, but only sigh,
If you can’t say it, baby I can try.

It’s difficult to tell if love will stay,
In theory it could work out lots of ways,
But I don’t really mean it when I say
Not yet.

All in good time,
That’s what they tell me.
You only learn if you keep going.
But the deeper we “go,”
The deeper I fall,
Even though I’ve got no way of knowing—
No way to know where this is going—
Yes, I know I’ve got no way of knowing.
Not yet.