by Larry Johnson

    Waiting, until the family has gathered,

    to go. Then leaving, feet first,

    with grace. Slowly,

    taking time

    for blessing.

    The heart chiming

    one beat and two.

    The favorite child palming

    your chest, feeling

    the wake of the metronome

    ceasing, ending, heading down

    into, Oh, that place

    where the quiet

    has gone.

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