Just a Little Longer

One old pine.

One old man.

The house
was near.

A few steps
and he could go in.

And yet
the old man did not go to the house.

On the far sea,
one boat.

Very small.

The old man
looked once at the house.

And then
looked at the boat again.

“Just that one,
a little longer.”

He laid both hands
on his stick.

The boat
slowly grew smaller.

The old man
stayed where he was.

The old pine
stood beside him.

The boat grew so small
it could hardly be seen.

Only then
did the tip of the stick move.

Not toward the sea,
but toward the house.

One hand's width.

The old man
looked at the sea again.

The boat
was still there.

“You've gone well.”

The words
were not loud.

The old man
did not wait for an answer.

The stick went
one hand's width more toward the house.

The old man
turned his head to look once more.