May 14, 2012


Now I'm packed,
taxi on its way,
carry-on waiting
by the door,
just not sure what
I'm leaving you for.
The driver comes,
takes my bag in hand,
maybe he
would understand.
Don't know what
I'm supposed to say,
I had not planned
to end this way.
The plane flies over
your house below,
you're still looking
for all I know.
Far above,
in those trails you see,
you might be able
to point out me.
My bag and I
have slipped on by,
guess there's no way
you'd know why.