I’m writing again farewell.
I’ve written it before, each word
Burning like your cigarette in the tray
The hours we sat; the syllables tinkle
As ice in a glass as it melts
And is swallowed
Into dark nights leaning on the rail,
Staring at the water slipping under the bridge.
The commas breathe, as our gasping for air
When the musicians paused and we twirled
To a stop, a goodnight kiss, a wave, and a
Closed door.

© Julia Varnell-Sarjeant 2011