{ one last }

At coffee time, we shared one last.

Our year, a minute over fast,

Was done, and I was off and gone,

With suitcase packed, and grin hitched on.

 

I rose, banal goodbye to say,

But she rose first, and turned away.

You’ll find love soon again? she asked.

Why bother?

I can’t make one

Last

Author: Owen Servant

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

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