And when I 
do finally reach
the depot with 
ticket in hand 
I expect to 
answer your questions 
taking stock of
what was then 
my life lived 
things will be 
counted debated argued
and finally decided 
upon which platform 
I board going 
on or maybe 
even going back 

Standing in
the future 
speaking to 
it too
never asking 
this too
will come 
bearing fruit 
of seeds
planted today 
prepare yourself 
both past
and present 
for tomorrow 
holds both 

The clouds 
came early 
keeping dark 
the city 
now wet
it weeps 
the kind
of sorrow 
only mothers 
ever know 
and endure 
people scurry
about nary
aware of 
the pain 
like fathers 
often do 
choosing to 

I hear 
it now 
pitter patter
against window 
reminding me 
that sound 
I heard 
from my
own chest
when I 
first spied
upon you 
I listened 
didn’t speak 
but knew 

It’s funny 
being me
mostly nothing 
and then
a raindrop 
falling from 
heaven above 
and into 
a puddle 
being nothing 
more again