Friday, March 4, 2011


By: Kyle Elden

Your palm glides across
a door
the smell of wood and old paint
presses against the last thing
between you
and the life
that awaits

Your fingers clasp
cold brass doorknob
and turn, open
light begins to filter in
and you know
it is time

You have learned what can be learned

You cannot look back
cannot stay
the past becomes the past
and you do the only thing you can do

Words like
regret and
if only
fall away like feathers
from a bird in flight
softly floating downward
against blue sky

No comments:

Post a Comment