an old child

I don't want to be there. I want to be here. Done with the world's demands. Don't want to go take photos. I have taken enough photos. An old child, I like it here. No camera. No snap snap. No seeing anything but here. The world, other people, can go rolling on its way, their way. It does, they do, anyway. I am here, looking at the dry dirt cold back yard. Leafless tree. No birds singing. Just here. Cool wind encasing me. Done with it all. Just here. Content.