Goodbye

Sunny setting.
Sun slipping off
Against the trees behind my door.
Through the branches stretch the shadows of the twisted bark.
And I breathe. And I breathe.

A dozen birds cackle lightly overhead.
The wind barely shakes the leaves.
I lean against the wall and think about the end of summer.
The end, this summer brings. The end of all my friends.
And I breathe. I breathe.

Relieved of all my bitterness about the separation,
I see the birds disperse into the air.
My eyes cannot fill each one inside
The small frame of my vision.
And I blink. Still I breathe.

What is a fellow companion,
When he or she’s not there?
How will I live? How will I breathe?
They’re not around to see the next sunrise with me.
How I stare. Holding breath.

It’s the sun that whispers its last goodbye
As it slides beyond my view.
The tree is bare and silent now,
And my shoulder starts to ache.
My eyes close. I breathe again.

And stand a few more seconds.

I grip the corner brick beside me,
As I turn around to leave.
There’s nothing more to see here and
There’s nothing here to do.
I’ve moved on, like the rest,
Leaving nothing but my footprints on the ground.