words fall forward in a rush
jumbled like yarn
in a basket with odds and ends,
the brick-a-brack of memories
washing past her eyes
like tides moving in and out.
Clarity comes like light through windows,
the sun through the fog finds her
waiting patiently knowing
the moment will come
and the gossamer threads of remembrance
the hum of life will signal his message
through to her softened state
as the meager soft smile finds her lip
she nods and changes direction
to where her path of thought leads.
Blue eyes weathered
sunk between the wrinkles,
the passage of time etched lines
becoming a part of her soul,
still so beautiful
she speaks softly with purpose,
a yes please and thank you
as her head nods,
taking the small bag she retreats
and locking eyes for one last time
she drifts away like a whisper on the breeze.
Life reflected in her gaze,
I wonder as she moves past
does she know of the poets thoughts,
that familiarity with time and its passage
and the tolling of each bell within.
We shall not go gently, no
for we still have fields of sunflowers to see
and lands to cross between here and there,
and if the lights shining like stars wait
endlessly decorating the darkness for us
we will be along when it is time,
and not a moment before we’re done.