Six o’clock
I trudge down 10 Dove Street
where night crawls and lovers meet.
I try to catch a glimpse of you
while all along I knew…
You won’t be here.
Six o’clock
I stand beside our favorite cafe,
waiting for you to come this way.
The sky has turned to gray
but still, like a fool, I stay.
You won’t be here.
Six o’clock
The stars rouse from their sleep;
the nightingales start to weep.
Still I wait.
And wait.
You won’t be here.
Six o’clock
I begin my journey home,
back to my empty dome.
I think not of the hours I wasted,
nor the evasive fancy I chased.
You weren’t there.
❤ it Mitch 🙂
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Thanks, Salve! 🙂
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