Leaving (poem)

Embalmed was the room ,

in a special kind of light.

A haze, a bloom,

not quite so bright.

Cushioning my eyes,

comfort so sublime,

Til' i say my goodbyes

its over now, its time.

The gravel crackles,

the air is crisp.

A black swallow paddles,

her wings through the mist.

We left too soon,

if you ask me.

But tomorrow at noon,

there's somewhere i need to be.