The aging face of my mother,

The less my cats want to play,

The fading years of my adolescence;

They all whisper that I must go.


The growing ease of reaching high places,

The more my mother needs me,

The empty space where my sibling once slept;

They all whisper that I must go.


The familiarity of every inch,

The gentle warmth of the air,

The memories that fill each room;

They all whisper that I must go.


I want to cling to all of it,

I don't want to walk away yet,

I can't let go of this place;

But I know I must go.