I have heard it said

that what goes up, must come



And all that rises from the dirt must


And to be careful to cap your pens

And to close your doors

And to turn the lights off.


For there is a special tragedy reserved

for a book never closed

for a prayer never finished

for children’s clothes grown into

and never outgrown

and for everything gone up that was never returned


And that there is no need to be sad

when a fleeting acquaintance is forgotten

when a spot won is lost

when a man ages back into a child

when one falls in love, then

out of it


For you should have seen it coming

and you should have known

After all, you have heard it said.