The Last

after the last

the work is done

the job complete

but somehow

not yet over

weight lifts

from your shoulders

but renewal

is now elsewhere

for someone else

the first morning

is slow

with black coffee

and jam spread

thinly on toast

and in the days

that follow

seconds past

unnoticed

silence fills

the astronomical twilight

with a gray fog

of gratitude

of regret

you listen for

the morning birds

unseen in the gardens

wait for them to resume

their songs of joy

alone you hum

the tune fill in

the lyrics

as words arrive

after their long journey

from the place

of your memories