Going Home

in perfect solitude the old woman slumbers
unaware of day or night, sun or rain
watching as shadows assemble and faces appear
singing, ever so pleasantly, the songs of her youth
a lifetime of worries flutter away like feathers in the breeze
as spirits attend to her passing

insentient dreams recall days long ago
remembrances of childhood innocence
teenage larks with forever friends
young love and shattered fantasies
voyaging swiftly through placid, sometimes stormy, seas
oblivious to dwindling hourglass sands soon to be exhausted

corridors fill with ancestors and celestial beings calling her name
bidding her welcome as she moves through the haze
canopied by shimmering outspread wings
wafts of sweet lilies and honeysuckle fill the air
as a vaguely familiar voice urges her onward
calling her back home…well lived my dearest…well lived