The Bookkeeper

What if
When I'm old, and I'm withered
With my sallow skin
And my eyes wrinkled
With my blurry vision
And my weary feet

What if 
I pick up a passion
Not a new one
One I never let go of
But one never pursued

What if
Time will allow me a reprieve
And let me be a bookkeeper

What if 
I could witness you
Picking at picture books
And in the blink of an eye
You're asking about philosophy

What if 
One day
My last day
As a bookkeeper will come
My only wish is
Let my last day as a bookkeeper
Come before the last day
Your footsteps echo through

What if 
Time slowed down
Just one more time
So let it be your turn
To be a bookkeeper

--Tia A., Adult