Tensing the Verb
by Tris Kerslake
When leaving becomes left, a last look back that takes things from the present to the past. When going becomes gone and there are no more seconds in this instant of your life. Just one more glimpse, one breath, one blink before the moment now becomes remember.
When close friends become Christmas cards and shuffle to the back of your addresses. When airports become your end rather than annoyances that only rule your duty-free. Just one last hug, a smile, a bid to keep the final blossom of familiar sky.
When family becomes a list of complex digits requiring calculations of their time and place. When favoured walks become a precious leaf of sycamore and keeps your page in books. Just one more kiss, one last caress to close your eyes beneath their farewell touch.
When parting becomes the thing you must outlast and all the happy faces start to crumble down. When passports and your foreign coins become what’s real as you hear that boarding call. Just one more night at home, you ask, that lets you leave tomorrow