The Last Time

The last time is coming.

Indeed, it is already nigh. 

And you do not know when

The clock will toll

The door will shut

The heart will stop.

 

You do not know. 

 

You do not know the last time

You hold your child on your hip- never to pick them up again. 

The last time a small hand slips into yours.

The last time a word is mispronounced.

The last time a beloved bear or blanket is to be snuggled, and then-finally- abandoned.

 

You do not know the last time

you will walk into the house that has always been yours.

The last time you will sit at the table you’ve sat at since childhood,

 to eat from the plates you’ve eaten off since childhood. 

The last time you will smell the scent of your father’s leather gloves, or your mother’s perfume.

The last time you will be called by a pet name that only your parents ever used. 

 

You do not know the last time

That a lover will look into your eyes with trust and devotion.

The last time those familiar arms will wrap around you and protect you from the storm.

You will not notice the gentle separation from “us” to “you” and “me”

You will be taken wholly by surprise the day your lover walks out the door,

and a stranger walks back in.

 

You do not know.

The last time is coming.

It creeps in the night.

 

Be vigilant.  Be wary. 

Do not let the last time be forgotten.

To be washed away in the tide of memory.

 

The last time is coming. 

Indeed, it is already nigh.