Mothership
When the silver saucer finally
returned, hovered stealthily
above the suburb and caught me
in its beam, I was afraid.
I never thought I’d balk,
feel anything but joy. I’d waited
so long. Pined nearly to death.
Yet homesickness waned
to complacence. I got comfy
in human skin, acquiesced
to the primitive patterns
of Earth years, Earthling lives.
I fooled all, loved some,
built a family and flourished.
When my own kind came
calling at last, time froze,
all outcomes reduced to stay or go.
It had to be clean—no goodbye,
no reason. A simple disappearance,
an endless evening stroll.
In that shaft of light, two worlds
fused, then split again.
You know what happened next.
You would have done the same.