Fading Whistles
What is it you would like to say? Say it, for this is the world’s end.
A poem about death shortly after the anniversary of losing my wife's closest friend.
How could I worry about me?
I am now struck— Struck by how much I loved her, And how through all the years, I never once said, I love you.
I laughed with her. Supped with her. Took her cookies. Listened to her. Suffered next to her. Dreamed of her.
But—like my flesh and blood, I took her for granted— This woman who gathered me in, Through three decades and five, Sometimes as son, Sometimes as brother, Sometimes as a wise one.
—
Now, it's 3:30 a.m., Adrift in the emptiness of a parking lot I hear the distant whistle Of a night train crying Through the wind.
The clack-clack-clack Rolling in the dark Carries me back Where these sounds once Wove themselves into her walls.
Vibrations signaling I was trapped— Not in fear, But in refuge Walled from a worried world For just a few minutes more.
How I wish now— I wish I could be trapped one more time, Just for those moments. Not long— Just long enough to say:
Thank you.
I love you.
#poetry #death #confession #storytelling #write #100daystooffload
2025-04-26 09:39:17