I’ll Stay

The rustle of leaves on a cold day,
The air heavy with blue winter-light.

The moon dancing on tree branches,
Reflected in the darkness of the lake-night.

The heavy sigh of an old house,
Settling, settling, heavy with life.

The light plays down the passageway,
Sliding over the window-sill,
Trailing white light through a crack in the curtain,
Slinking through a slit in the window-shade.
And I think: Someday, she’ll be gone.

When that time comes,
The light and the window-sill, the curtain and the passageway
Will all remain.

And I’ll stay, for a little while..
I’ll stay.


Writer and armchair philosopher

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