That I not be a restless ghost
Who haunts your footsteps as they pass
Beyond the point where you have left
Me standing in the new spring grass,
You must be free to take a path
Whose end I feel no need to know,
No irking fever to be sure
You went where I would have you go. . . .
So you can go without regret
Away from this familiar land
Leaving your kiss upon my hair
And all the future in your hands.
Those who would fence the future in
Between two walls of well-laid stones
But lay a ghost walk for themselves,
A dreary walk for dusty bones.
No comments:
Post a Comment