We must great death at our door like an uninvited houseguest with impeccable timing.
We must welcome it in and offer it a seat.
We must sit with it and feel the rogue drops of water on our lips as we sip from our cup.
We must listen to the silence, to the opposite of what we know.
We must let it weave its tendrils into our being and make way for what it breaks down.
It is a friend in disguise; new growth is coming.
But first, we will lay in the shade of a wise old tree.
Our heads together, comforted in the love we share.
Not saying a word, and yet saying at all again and again.
All the while, the birds make nonsense of the sky.
The leaves applaud our act of love.
The ground stays beneath us.
The blades of grass sway in the wind.
This will be our goodbye.
This will be our last moment of peace.
This is our celebration of the grand coming together we have found.
There is no turning back.
There is no dragging it out.
We both know we can’t pretend any longer.
What was, was beautiful.
What will be is unknown.
One last final sigh as the swing dangles slightly in the afternoon buzz.
One last kiss goodbye.