four-and-thirty years ago…

four-and-thirty years ago
he was going to meet her here
they would spend a night, then
run away

it was 1984,
he was sure, as sureness comes,
night would turn into a
brighter day

so he waited in a room,
waited for her sudden step,
waited for a hand that
never knocked

four-and-thirty years has gone,
all has turned to dirt and dust,
except for one small tear this place
unlocked

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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