Down the darkened hall I see

a distant little door before which
your message sits, like you, I wonder,
waiting.  The journey from here
will take an hour, from there to the door
a moment or two, but no more.  I can
read the writing from here, so clear
to see, that I breathe a sigh of relief
at having had the chance to know
the meaning of us all for all our years.
The best of times, and the worst by far,
a parting twice, leaving me behind.
But we may have more music someday,
as I make my way, following your direction
left me at that distant little door I go toward.