Helen sent me this picture, taken a while back, when she still lived in New York, and I still had all my hair (I cut 14 inches off last week). I thought I’d include the picture and the poem she wrote about leaving.
Leaving
The city is sad I am leaving her again
I talked to her about it at length
Her spirit keeps pushing and pulling
Letting me go
Calling me back
Just the kind of love I’m used to
I’ll get behind it this time
Steam roll
This time I won’t say goodbye
H.W.
30 January 2009
Waverly Diner
9:45pm