I’ve seen the back of heads and asses switch to a goodbye beat too many times to count.
Said farewell in every language except happiness and left tears smudged on so many doorknobs I’ve lost count in the aftermath and still, I let you in.
Let you stop on the stoop, drag your feet across the plain old mat to keep from dragging grass across the carpet, and eventually, I’ll see those same feet dashing in the other direction, and it’s so depressing.
Still, I let you in. Still, I offer you a cool drink of water, or something stronger, but you’re never up for it. I sip alone.
Maybe these spirits won’t haunt your footsteps in the morning or the evening or the yesteryear I’ve come to live with…