Does It Really Matter?

“Where are you going?”, he asks

Taking a long drag off his time-worn cigar

A long drag off his time-worn self.

 

Biting my tongue and placing my

Perplexed dispositions all too clearly,

My lips form the words – “I do not know.”

 

His eyes are uncharacteristically lucid,

His face – uncharacteristically keen.

“Then, does it really matter?”

And the winds below the moment away.