A Different Kind Of Speaking

I must be going—
And thanks for the pie
And the wise words to live by
And the faithful
Birthday cards and checks
And calls about my diverse subjects.

But I must be going—
Although with tears
Throughout the years
You held my head
And my hand
And for weeks our weekends planned
And cleaned my feet of sand.

But I must be going, now—
And as you sit there on your bed,
Watching photos of memories fled,
And praying in my stead,
And while it’s not altogether true,
I have a world of things to do,
Like I said:

I must be going now—
I turn and hear the creak
Of floorboards, tan and weak,
And with each step, a seeming mile
I turn to catch your smile
And hope that what I’ve offered today
Was worthwhile.

I was going then.
You’re going now.
I don’t know when
Or in my going how
I missed the chances to say before:
I love you more,
I love you now.