The Launchpad

Raining tears as a cleansing goodbye,

farewell from dusted sills

and lacy languid curtains

that whispered the secret...

it's time to go... somewhere... West.

In a packed caravan with baggage,

and boxes, and pictures of places already seen

in memory of the many hangings.

A catapult to the future, stretching

the canvas of imagination and intrigue.

Two men sat in syncopated rhythm

of their shared lifetime, in uniforms

of their generational divide.

Only the eyes foretold their

shared conspiracy, as a woman

of chance was comforted by

their sidelong glances of dimpled delight.

She sat musing in quiet song

amongst the cargoed stuffing

of a one-way trip and the return duffle...

her reptilian travel bag relegated to the back.

The drops fell cool in the pelting

of the vessel of launch,

as the once proud house with a

For Sale sign bid farewell

to this final launch...

the last refuge at a point of no return...

The launch completed with the release

of a brake pedal

laid down towards a western sky.