Leaving Home

I didn't tell the magnolia tree I love her,
because I was searching for boxes for packing every memory.

I didn't tell the honeysuckle to follow me,
to show the dewberries where to find me,
because I was crossing a line they couldn't grow past.

I didn't sing one more song with the mockingbirds
because they don't do songs of mourning.

I didn't offer apologies and explanations at the graves
because I couldn't say goodbye again.

I didn't tell the back porch it was the last night,
because I sit there every night in my dreams.

I didn't say, "Take them somewhere safe, but I'm staying,"
because I was busy locking the door and driving away.