By Cathy Lee
You know it’s coming, it’s last
But what do you do knowing in advance?
Foreshadowing the hurt to come,
The crumbling sense of loss
On something that was barely even stable
I wish I could tell this story better, like a fable that everyone remembers
A warning, for the last day
As it slowly but surely comes
Don’t expect it to crash and burn around you, a bit too Hollywood and far from our reality.
The change is subtle, but something noticeable all the same
Like slowly stepping over something, knowing it won’t have the power to trip you anymore
And make you fall down.
You will know, on the last day
Whether it was all worth this,
Or if leaving it behind was the best thing.
To gently close on the door,
On the last day.