I would not say, 'It will be alright'

if I could travel back in time.

For it would be futile,

to risk lying to you

once more.

'It would have been so good

if it worked out,'

is what I might have said instead,

and lingered a little longer—

just in case you, once again,

weary, chose at last

to pull, exhausted,

a small meter of earth

from beneath my feet

and over your head.