He Beckons Me, Come

People racing,
going somewhere,
not here, but somewhere.
Trains, planes and automobiles
busy buzzers buzzing.
I sit,
and watch,
waiting for those to come;
a brief moment in time
before the gathering.
I smile at my thoughts.
I am going on a journey,
sacred, serene;
my name is called,
I smile once more.
Another calls my name
in the silent whispers of my soul.
He beckons me, “Come.”
Rising, I answer the call
and so it begins.

 © Leslie C Dobson

If you liked this poem, you can find additional ones on the poetry page of Leslie’s website.