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Crossing the Threshold

Author: Emma Jackson

The gate opens with its soft click,

I walk up the path and rap on the door.

A few seconds pass then I hear your footsteps,

The door opens and you say three longed-for words; come on in.

Come on in and smell the dinner cooking, listen to the thrum of bairns.

Come on in and sit at the dining table, trace the familiar patterns on the tablecloth.

Come on in and accept the offer of a cup of tea.

No need to wrap your hands around the mug to keep the cold at bay,

No need to keep one eye on approaching rain clouds.

We have moved just a few feet, but the garden seems like another country, another lifetime.

Over the last year we have covered many miles and talked about many things.

But now there is a subtle shift,

It seems that some things can only be said with the protection of four walls.

The meal finished, we are silent for a while,

Just the ticking of the oven as it cools, the buzz of the fridge.

The time comes to leave. Go well you say.

There will be bigger celebrations to come, parties with all our friends,

But for now, this is enough.