Pressed Back

There is a foot pressing into my lower back.
And fingers spread across my chest pushing my path back;
pushing my path back.

The time is very close and it feels like I should go.
Close but not yet, no, it's still not time to go;
still not time to go.

But I can count the days until it is my turn.
Waiting for the air to chill and for the leaves to turn;
for the leaves to turn.

Better not fall down these steps balancing on my heels.
With my toes over the edge and a determination that heals;
determination that heals.

There is a foot pressing into my lower back.
And fingers spread across my chest pushing my path back;
pushing my path back.