New ends

It seems time goes
without so much as goodbye
without so much as a note
of change, an official end
to periods, and without
warning of beginning
something new.

Perhaps not just time;
perhaps also us,
and what I miss has ended
perhaps long before
I knew:
where are the unsolicited
nights over,
the goodnight messages,
the inclusion in things -
being the center of things
was nice.

I just wish I had warning -
I just wish I knew -
standing here one moment
too long, one hurt lip
too many, one downcast eye
too low - no,
I didn't know.
I didn't sign off
on this turn
and I slip sometimes
between the cracks of sense
into nonsense, gibberish,
none-of-that.

I will wish time goodnight,
and childhood goodbye,
but for all other counts
I will keep on
and hope.