Cousin of Sleep

In evening’s indigo hours
She floats to the front door
Fingers brush against the doorbell
Uninvited, not unexpected

Drowned is the doorbell’s ring
The voices of politic
Labour and routine
Sing a distracting tune

Patient, waiting
Moons wax and wane
Summer melts into autumn
At the door she remains

Words of tomorrow
Of planning and needs
Pulse through the house; Still
drowned is the doorbell’s ring

At last an icy wind
Greets her in kind
Humming of ailments, disease
A gift of sorts

With winter’s hairpin
She picks the lock
Graceful shadow of fire
She flickers through the house

Glances of sorrow
Pass through the foyer
Static with silence
Guests mull her arrival

Songs collapse to whispers
Lights cool to blue
Grief and sadness yes
But quiet calm too

No voice speaks as
She caresses their cheeks
When lips brush skin
No songs drown the doorbell’s ring

Wistful eyes cease day’s song
Doorbell’s ring hums long and low
Of should have, could have
The ring, a hymn

Melodies of regret meet
A baritone of gratitude
In a chorus of mystery
Journey’s end collapses to new beginning