Moving Slowly

The squeaking door to his soul is closing,
He’s stepping softly,
But she’s awake now,
Watching him escape again
Through curtains leading to the yesterday,
Where she can’t chase him…
 
Every silence has a reason,
Hiding fears that guard the past
He’s struggling to forget 
And break the daunting silence
Filled with old doubts.
 
Every time he returns in hopes to find her gone,
Thinking:
From his downfalls like every other she must have run.
 
But here she sleeps in his bed
Hiding grief in her eyes,
As she smiles.
He craves that healing embrace
Of her cold icy hands
As the dawn slowly dies
Into the new day of tomorrow with her.
 
The squeaking door to his soul is closing,
He’s stepping softly,
He’s back in bed now.
Holding her with care
As if she’s ancient porcelain,
But she won’t break…
 
This is not the last time,
She knows it well,
He’ll become transparent again and again.
But now he’s asleep as she rustles in the sheets,
Never again will she lose him in the streets…
She’ll be walking
Close behind him,
Moving slowly,
Shifting moments…