The Halfway House, Part XII

After good-byes, the traveller starts

To leave, unhappy that he parts

From those who wish him well. This grief

He feels, but will it last? How brief

Are many things in the fine arts.


The world of sand and stone that hurts

The sensitive, the world where dirt is

Still refined, tears making it laugh

     After good-byes,


This world, the world we hold to our hearts

Lest it should break, the world, then, darts

Away. Our traveller is left

Like a child alone, bereft

In the stillness, whom nothing diverts

     After good-byes.