For Eternity, and Now.

Should I depart early
and forget to say farewell,
don’t wait for the church bells
or choirs singing—
there’ll be none of that.

Should I depart early
and you ever get a hankering
to pull me close
to feel my presence by your side,
start your day
with the rooster and the dawn.

Step one,
sit silently at sunrise.
Let the golden rays spill over you
and listen for the
frail sound of dewdrops
rolling down the leaf
of lily-of-the-valley.

Step two,
feel the grass beneath your toes
as we used to,
ambling across the meadow
where junipers and poppies grow,
where we always sat
and forgot about the world,
and time,
and dinner.

Step three,
reach your hand
into your backpack.
I know you have it with you.
Play me the waltz I used to love
on your silver harmonica.
Listen very carefully,
you’ll hear me hum along.

Step four,
cross the burning strip of sand.
Wade into the salty Baltic Sea.
Just float.
Don’t do anything.
Just be.
Let the water carry you.
I promise I’ll be by your side.

Step five,
wrap yourself in blanket.
Take the large, yellow one
as you cozy up on terrace.
Sip on linden blossom tea,
still steaming.
No honey needed.
And when the sun dips behind horizon,
allow yourself to rest as well.

Should I depart early
and forget to say farewell,
don’t wait for an invitation
or for the doorbell.
Come back to what we used to love,
and I promise you,
I vow—
I’ll be right there by your side.
Today, tomorrow,
for eternity,
and now.