Had I known this would have been our last embrace.
Would I have given more than I take.
I summon up that specter steeple.
As well as, that rare smile that graced your face.
I ask the hereafter, with quiet reservation,
who does not falter?
Ominous choices of two forks in the road.
‘No, you did all you could.
How were you to know.
She always likened herself to beauty being bold.’
Those were the days of romantic sobriety.
Young love in tarnished hands.
A reckoning of waters,
so still they moved.
I am perpetually swayed back to that secular summer place…
with the worshipers in the sun’s face.
The only thing I knew to do was offer a way to leave.
Proposing a week’s reprieve.
It moved me.
It moved you.
at the time,
that was the best that we could do.