A Letter On Leaving
on the frail pale wings of Morning
I have sailed away to Spain
winging well above the breakers
of your ocean fraught with pain
As I cupped your face in parting
as I kissed you for the last,
as my journey I was starting,
I could see the die was cast
Yes you loved me on the Wednesday
that you didn't go to town,
and on Friday you forgave me
for the way I let you down
Late last May you nearly told me
that you hoped that we could try
to begin to start pretending
we were lovers,you and I
All the waiting and the wishing
and the watching while you sleep
all the hours spent in fishing
for the complements you keep
underneath your silent pillow
fluffed with smothered words of love
buried 'neath the weeping willow
with an epitaph above
saying only that you're sorry
that I never understood
all the things you never told me
and you know I never would.
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