Our simple goodbyes were the wind
Swirling around our clasped hands,
Around your closed eyes, your chapped lips,
Your balding head.
It lingers in the room
Until you can add to it no more.
It is yanked out by the crisp air, as you are taken.
It twists, spins, swirls between cars on the road.
It is taken up by a bird's wings.
It is pulled into the vents of a home,
Weaving in and out of a family seated for dinner.
It flies out a window, and down the road,
Whisked into an opening door of a large brick building.
It is carried down a carpeted hall by the swinging purse of a small girl,
Taken with her as she kneels at the front of a room,
Bowing her head, closing her eyes.
It circles her, pulling the tears down her face,
And she parts her lips just enough
To set the current off again.