FinalDeparture
By: Thomas Lin
We congregated in the hayloft Of the lichen-plastered barn A pocket of privacy, it creaked And sighed on Sunday afternoons A propitious start in black and white We fluttered, but never flew Stayed in the farmhouse by the pond Cobbled wee wagons with two by fours The fledglings took off, landed Unlanded, came back for more Until one day they left Leaving us What had to be said Was, without a fuss What should have been Couldn’t, until today Painting, scraping, another coat Winter knocked once in May The barn collapsed Apologies. I made a promise I could not keep.
No.
3 Musée Magazine 71