: : When It's Time
This house will tell me when it’s time.
I return uncertain of many things
but certain of that. After everyone
departed I remained. It was still my home;
where I've slept after the best days
of my life. Every time my key turns
memories wait inside the door.
My dreams are grafted to these beams.
After the birthday party tonight I drove
them back in my new car to their
new homes dropping them off
one by one: wife, son, daughter, then
turning the final corner parked where
I park, walking up the walk I walk,
past the window where no one
waits anymore to watch for me.
Some day it will be time to leave.
I pray it will come like a whispered
assurance, a breeze blowing cross
my new morning, waking my soul
on the other side of darkness, telling me
this is the day. The last petal on the blossom
of my cut flower will break off and gently fall.
I will see it and know it’s true.
// R Hudgens
