When we get to the end of the page,
And the last word has been said
And all the thoughts of the Sage
Have been comprehended as read
Then we’ll all fold our glasses
And lay them on the bed…
We’ve been alone for years now,
Amid the clamoring crowd;
Badly tarnished, the Matriarch’s crown
(More so than is allowed!)
Our head, once so erect
Is now a trifle bowed…
The print seems so much smaller now
Than it ever was before,
And I believe I hear the Editor
Tapping softly at my door
“A moment only, dear One,
“For I’ve rather slowed with age.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,
“When I get to The End Of The Page.”
“Barbara, kindly close the blinds,
“For the sun is far too bright!”
(What a surprise when she shall find
That the SUN’s not the source of that light!)
But it truly wouldn’t matter,
For she’s far too tired to fight…
Great gulps of God’s good air
I again breathe in with glee!
The hummingbirds and martins fair
Zoom and sing to welcome me!
Breaths, and birds, and iris beds:
Joys such as I’d forgot could be!
Now I’ve come to the End Of The Page
Now it’s time to sign the Book.
The papers are folded, the bed is made;
Now I cast a last and a loving look.
Fin’ly unfettered and free’d am I,
I gladly bound from out my cage,
And fly to the arms of my dearest Dear,
For I’ve got to The End Of The Page!
December 6, 1986