saying goodbye

I want to go home,
she cries, gripping your arm.
I've been here
too long.
how long though, she doesn't
really know.
each day has melted
into the next,
weeks becoming months.
her body has curled into
the chair she sits on.
she can't remember much.
your name, her name,
but very little more.
you lie to her when you leave.
you tell her that you'll
work on getting her
back home, back to her
kitchen, her yard,
her blue parakeets
in their cage.
you tell her you'll be
right back. right back,
you say, then kiss
her on the cheek and leave
turning around once more,
to see her wave.