Linger

Lingering doubts—
Clouds of expectation—
Hang gently over me,
Soft hushes of hope for the next day,
Or thoughts of what might be.

Some roads—
Winding paths to the unknown—
Are too long to be traveled.
Yet they haunt us forever,
Chasing the memory of youth.
We are but chances—
Shadows of ourselves,
Exchanging hellos and goodbyes in one breath.
There is no expectation,
No lingering hope for another encounter.
And the realization of such fact—
Cold though it may be—
Prepares the self for the destined nothingness,
But never for the solitude on the other side.

And so it is with me
When upon that night I remember.
It meant so little in the moment,
Yet its stains shall never be cleansed.
Glances back lead only to hope for tomorrow,
When the sun rises to a new day—
Without you—
Same as yesterday.

Eventually,
The escape will manifest itself;
Slowly you will slip out of my mind,
And into the abyss of my once-lived life.
But each night—
This to that—
Will be filled with you,
Dancing youthfully in my aged arms,
Which push your memory away
And still ache to hold you again,
Only to find you,
Lingering softly the way only you can.

— 2004