what’s left would still leave more to come if one didn’t rush to get there

I’m feeling ok still in some small way.
I’ve come too far to just go away.
I wish I could stay here some way.

So that what now comes wouldn’t only be more
of what’s to be lost. What’s left would still leave more
to come if one didn’t rush to get there.

What’s still to say? Your eyes, your hair, your smile,
your body sweet as fresh air, your voice in the clear morning
after another night, another night, we lay together sleeping?

If that has to go, it was never here.
If I know still you’re here, then I’m here too
and love you, and love you.

[Robert Creeley {1926-2005} 'Old Song' from Selected Poems, 1945-2005]