Swords Of Gold - Beverly Glenn-Copeland

There’s a lone cry occasionally

The sun was shining along the steep edge of my bed

The covers are all undone but nobody lies in them

Waiting to be warmed, waiting to be warmed

And the floor is covered with sprawled suitcases, and sealed cardboard boxes

Floor is freshly waxed

But the cases, and the boxes, are not yet unpacked

And I can no longer tell whether I am about to stay or to depart again

Depart again

Depart again