June 15, 2012


I'm looking for a sign
of where I came in,
over the entrance
where I began.
Each time I see it,
it's farther away,
once I could feel it,
now I can't say.
When I come close,
it goes out of my mind,
I must leave soon,
it's closing time.
At last in a corner
just under the sign,
a hand is offered
from a friend
who is kind.
The sign glows in neon,
still, I am torn.
My friend pulls me
to her, and soon
we are gone.