It’s the quiet, pink, slowly slipping away
Of another closer-to-autumn day
Or the wanting of you on that noon in July
When we parted but never said good-bye
Instead, letting our tears wash away tenderly
Those lovely things
That never again will be
It’s like the indistinguishable, precious lasts
Recognized only long after they are past
Like the last time you climbed into my lap
Where I rocked you to sleep for your afternoon nap
It’s in the recognition that dreams do come true
Even if they are
A different shade of blue
It’s the longing that grips us because we’ve held and cried
Bearing the beauty of laughter’s flip-side
It’s the darkness, as it seeps from its endless unknown
To cover creek-banks and warm cobblestone
It’s a coursing within us; an intangible flow
The beautiful, beautiful mourning
Of loving and
Letting go
Letting go
© Janet Martin
