Leaving
ALEXANDRA ANNE ELLIS
Cold, his grip is cold
Dad pulls me close to his chest
Sweet tobacco stained fingers bold
Sticking neatly to the back of my satin vest
“I will miss you sweetie.”
Breath backed barren breathing
The time will beg a meeting
Shallow now fixed by a tender caress
I walk down the hallway
Hands behind hands
Metal raw and exasperating
I walk away
Crystalline eyes concentrated
on the forward movement
of patient hands
It is now my time to serve
But yet saying goodbye is deserved