Flight

It's always bittersweet to leave a place.
Bitter should be obvious, because
It's difficult to calmly re-erase
The parts of us we put - everyone does -
Into the place we were. Sweet is less clear
Unless the place we're going to we like;
Otherwise the sweetness must appear
In motion, much like taking a long hike
Where every breath may bring a little pain
From burning lungs or muscles working hard
But overall the walk, despite that strain,
Seems pleasant, and refuses to be marred.
So I while leaving here feel not so great
But moving and arriving recreate.