“the spirit wants to stay”

There’s a hush in the hallway, a whisper of light,  
A sense of a presence that lingers at night.  
The stars press their faces to old windowpanes,  
Soft silver on wood, and on long, listless grains.

The clock ticks in silence—familiar, contained—  
Yet a shiver of memory cannot be explained.  
Is it love, is it longing, the reason you wait  
With your gaze on the threshold, unhurried by fate?

The chairs bear the weight of your laughter and tears,  
Your voice in the rafters, the echo of years.  
You trace out the patterns where sunlight once lay—  
Yes, the world keeps on turning, but spirit will stay.

What draws you, what binds you, what root ever so deep?  
Each blossom you planted, each promise you keep.  
The portrait in shadow, the book on the stand,  
And the child in the garden, still holding your hand.

We bow by your doorway and sometimes we find  
A warmth in the room, as if memory’s kind.  
It lives in the music, the air’s gentle play—  
The body may wander; the spirit will stay.

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