I heard your voice this morning
and it had been
more than a long time.
I didn’t call on you
like I said I would,
I was too ashamed.
You knew that I had broken
all my promises
and had let my lust linger
in those old, dark places.
I had begun to view
Hell, with a certain nostalgia,
reserved for fiends
and the derelict.
Imagine my surprise
to find you at my door
on that fine Sunday morning
in September.
Of course,
I opened the door
and invited you in
and truthfully,
I was so shocked
that I forgot to offer breakfast;
I am sorry for that,
as for so many other things.
So we drank coffee
in the kitchen,
in the warmth of the morning sun
and we talked of things,
but you never once asked,
why I had forsaken and abandoned you,
or why I had not kept my word.
I knew why you came over
this morning,
of all mornings,
it wasn’t just because you were passing by.
It wasn’t just a social call,
so we could talk about old days;
no, you came over
to remind me
you still cared.
As it is your way,
your heart held no malice
and I nearly fell apart
with your embrace.
Thank you for reminding me
that I am more than just alive
and that because you are,
I can be, as well.
There is no feeling
like knowing you are loved
and not forgotten,
for I know that I
have often lost myself.
The beauty of your presence
at my door
is all the sign I need
to know that I am not alone.
Then we stood outside
and said our good-byes
and you looked at all my discarded
and unfinished work
and you said,
that if I wanted,
you would come back
and help me set a few things right.
I agreed
and we embraced one more time.
You went on your way down the road.
I knew that there were others
who would yet receive a visit today
and I smiled to myself.
Standing in the sunshine
that felt as good as any
I have known
in a long, long time.
HG – 2016
