Ten Minutes to Close

I guess there's nothing left

to do now, but leave.

But before I go, I'd like to have

one last word with you.

Tt's ten minutes to close

(you're too close),

but I'm not waiting by the door

to meet you tonight.

There's an eastward breeze

I should have caught

a long time ago.

It speaks of things that I still

consider home.

It seems it's also been there,

and been here, before.

I guess there's nothing left

to do now.