If I Should Leave

If I should leave,

you should tell me:

you should let go,

then I would float upward

until I reached the other side

of a cloudy, autumn sky.

Untethered,

you could be yourself

every day, morning and night.

You’d keep memories in boxes,

take them out and look at them:

artifacts from a vanished race.

If I should leave,

I would be lost,

for I don’t want to go.