I will follow you where no one else will -
till the far bank. Till the automatic doors
click shut. Till the long train pulls out. And till
the last ocean reaches its farthest shore.
From these rooms to the routes by land and air,
on the road and off-road and by the hill,
at rest within walls, or restless, I’ll be there
wherever you choose to stop or travel.
When the light dazzles, or the darkness blinds
and the world offers a shoulder that’s cold,
the ground gets boggy or you suddenly find
the cliffs won’t let you get even a toehold,
when the earth and sky feel like a cosmic sneer
reach out for me and I’ll be there, my dear.
So, I am back in couch-potato mode, newly empty nester-ed and somewhat ill at ease with this whole caper. The offspring is now a few thousand miles away, I'm a few thousand years older, not a look that suits me, I'm sure. My heart is bursting with a deadly strange mixture of pride and fear, and also beating in all the wrong places...
The alarm clocks have been turned off, the school routines binned, but...I'm still waking up at crack of dawn every weekday, uber frustrating! The sleeping in till I drop off (the bed) plans will have to take a backseat for now...while I get my coping mechanism sorted...lots of hyperventilating coupled with beverages of caffeinated and alcoholic kinds should do the trick...and of course, poetry, the panacea for all milestones and malaise!