Daily Farewell at the Door
She goes to work, she pauses there to stand,
Eyes bright with love, a gentle, glistening spark.
She clutches hands in hers, a tender band,
Her voice a thread that warms against the dark.
It’s not goodbye—it’s love she leaves behind,
A quiet gift to carry on my way.
No words are needed, nor are tears confined;
Her heart speaks volumes more than we could say.
A final hug, a smile that lingers on,
Like sunlight held within a fleeting grasp.
And as she fades, the warmth is never gone,
Her presence stays within that farewell clasp.
She goes to work, but with each sweet embrace,
She fills my live with love’s unending space.
Traduccion en espanol - Cada Adiós en la Puerta
Cada vez que partimos, se detiene,
sus ojos brillan con amor sincero.
Nos toma de la mano y nos sostiene,
su voz un hilo cálido y entero.
No es adiós—es amor que nos entrega,
un dulce don que llevamos de aquí.
Las palabras no alcanzan lo que llega;
su alma habla más de lo que hay que oír.
Un último abrazo, sonrisa fiel,
como un rayo de sol entre sus brazos.
Y aunque se va, su luz vive en la piel,
presente en ese adiós, en sus abrazos.
Cada visita acaba, pero así,
deja el rastro de amor que ella nos da a ti.
Cada vez que partimos, se detiene,
sus ojos brillan con amor sincero.
Nos toma de la mano y nos sostiene,
su voz un hilo cálido y entero.
No es adiós—es amor que nos entrega,
un dulce don que llevamos de aquí.
Las palabras no alcanzan lo que llega;
su alma habla más de lo que hay que oír.
Un último abrazo, sonrisa fiel,
como un rayo de sol entre sus brazos.
Y aunque se va, su luz vive en la piel,
presente en ese adiós, en sus abrazos.
Cada visita acaba, pero así,
deja el rastro de amor que ella nos da a ti.
The Friday Farewell
At five we watch the ticking hands align,Our desks abandoned, screens now fading black.
This weekly pause, a sweet, uncertain sign,
As Friday whispers, “Go,” then pulls us back.
We trade a glance, relief upon each face,
The weekend’s freedom sparking in our eyes.
But Monday waits, relentless in its chase,
Its shadow creeping as the sunlight dies.
A final laugh, then out the door we spill,
Released from duty’s grasp, if just for now.
Each step toward rest, though brief, is savored still,
While Monday plans its steady, solemn vow.
This loop of time, a dance that never ends,
Our Fridays lost, but Monday always mends.
Original idea
For today’s prompt, write a before you leave poem. Hopefully, nobody's thinking about leaving this challenge yet, but we are all leaving October. And since it's Friday, many of us may be leaving the work week. And well, we've all likely left other people, places, and things over the years. Think about those situations for this poem.
No comments:
Post a Comment