Song Without a Title

I think with a rasp like sound of velcro
separating, watch how we slowly pry
ourselves apart. I envision
the goodbye the last grapple of the last
wild clutch, the walking away
and that last glance
back, turning
for a last look.
In fact, you are leaving. Taking
your always away. The song
is full of sorrow, it’s a river
of sorrow, a Shenendoah of sorrow.