Leaving
Day follows day until that day
I must leave; it grows closer
with each dawn, with each bird song,
with each poem I pack for my journey.
I have put the moon in my satchel
and as many stars as I can fit.
I have filled it with memories
of the sun on the tall viridian pines
of the hills and of you.
Give me a kiss and I shall slip
it in with all the rest before
day follows day and I say goodbye.
Stephen Brooke ©2023
