When it’s time for me to go

When it’s time for me to go,

I drift to the edges

of the bubbling broth 

of chatter.

Near the door

I glance back, to see

if anyone’s watching.

Someone waves;

I nod, I smile,

and then I slip 

silently 

into the night outside. 

Is this always my way of leaving?

I don’t want to draw attention to myself. 

I’d rather let life roll on

without me, as it will

anyway.

So let’s have no fanfares,

no play-by-play announcers;

no paeans of praise;

no crowds reaching out 

to have their hands touched,

as I pass by. 

When it’s time for me to go,

I shall drift to the edges 

of the bubbling broth

of on-going life.

Near the door, perhaps,

I’ll glance back, to see

if anyone’s still watching.

If anyone waves, 

I’ll raise a finger,

a mute salute

before I slip 

silently 

into the night outside…

when it’s time for me to go.

By Jim Taylor, January 2019