The sentence was death, terminally sure,
to pack my bags, adieu

As reds have never looked so red,
and greens, the greenest hue

The wine the sweetest on my tongue,
as birds sing sweeter still

The children’s laughter I embrace,
their joy I’ll keep until…

In thinking back on what I’ve missed,
my mind then draws a blank

Every wish and every hope, twice over,
with my thanks

A hundred days to say goodbye,
and voice my first hello

No tears have I for broken dreams
—as I prepare to go

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: April, 2020)