Once when accompanying a loved one for moral support, to remember the things she might not hear or choose to forget, I’m afraid I failed miserably…
Terminal was all I heard,
his droning blabber
bouncing off the sterile
white-washed walls.
My mind drifted to
bustling rail and plane
depots transporting
travelers to wild
exotic ports of call.
How could a word
so off course be,
its careless shift
from adjective to
noun and back again?
An inconvenient detour
promises a gentler
passage we’re assured…
and thus advised to follow
every sign while winding
through these unfamiliar veins…
Terminal you say?
Last call,
departure time
is imminent.
For all I hear
and all I know
is that the gate
is set to close.
kat ~ 2015
