The Departure
How do I tell her that I must leave now,
my work is done,
and the journey complete,
with warm moments and sweet memories,
filled with gestures of love,
not regretting but forgetting
the pain that is buried below.
To make her see that I must leave now,
’cause I am so very weak,
from the little red one to the big pink one,
no more, no more for me.
See, I must go now, my season is here
and her winter is over,
but how do I tell her that I must leave now,
that she has cared for me very well,
and to leave this room and not look back
at the despair and suffering that is
setting me free.
I have been her mountain top,
while she has been my soaring eagle,
then to break her spirit into a thousand pieces
that will again somehow
be mended but never the same,
often leaking with anguish.
How do I tell her that I must leave now,
but will not be very far away,
still there whispering in her dreams,
while cradling her in my wings.
So my dear, dry your eyes and look to the sky,
from where I’ll be watching you,
because today I have to leave.