The Child Is Grown

Tis here we part ways, oh dear friend,
And you go back where we came from,
For this road I walk, knows no end;
They must be worried back home.

And I shall go my own heart's way,
Where the wind and the stars take me,
And if the rivers freeze, and my legs give away,
I'll sing me songs of thy memories.

And should this be all, we see of each other,
Cherish what remains of our youth,
And should you ever wonder, if I remember,
Don't bother, for I probably do.

A dream is how it all begins,
And so it must end with another,
As the walls that nurtured, now choke me in,
And I must break now, or never.

And as you go home, visit every garden,
Should this be the last time you return,
Recall lost promises, and knock on every door,
And do leave her a letter.

Tis here we part ways, oh dear friend,
And you return where we come from.
For every new beginning is also an end...
I hope everyone's fine back home.

Reviews

[Esther]

This is one of the subtlest poems I've ever come across, much like those of the Bronte sisters.