Older Than Time

It's only the beauty has me writing this rhyme,
For the story itself's at least older than time.
It's not “boy meets girl” so much as “child of neglect
meets child of abuse with swearing for effect.”

He, grown wise and reckless under absence of eyes,
Did not so much crave her, but attachment he prized,
And her approval, or anyone's, was his manna, his gold.
He's so terribly young for one so soon old.

She was shocked by those desires. Who would care
What she wanted, what she thought, even notice she was there?
In spirit, if not body, she'd been beaten to dust, to nothing at all.
She had all the lack of pride that often leadeth to a fall.

He's kind of thin and reedy, really needy for a knight,
But the reward for all that distance is never learning how to fight,
And how could she not reward him, attentive as he'd been?
With each, the other didn't fear becoming what they'd seen.

They passed notes, and other things, returned to paper, making plans.
He stepped halfway up, took the lead, imitating a man.
He could make most of the money if he started work today;
She had a helpful little hidden, squirreled away.

They left so early the young morning still pretended to be night.
It seemed better. They never stopped to ask if it was right.
They never told anyone where or when they planned to go.
If it seems better than just staying, the unknown is worth a know.