Couldn’t Possibly

One more time

One last time

Said She

Morning hours now

Dawn light sheds its tale

On these white bed sheets

A cool glass of water

Sits on the bedside table

Moisture condensing on the side of the glass

Friday night’s bouquet sits alone

With nothing left to love

Not even a voice or tear

Tulips of orange and yellow

The scent capturing a moment

No longer here today, yesterday

A warm breeze enters the room

Lifting up the love note from the linens

Making it swirl around in the room

Can you find it?

Can you please find it?

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.12.16.16:25:00@TampaIntAirport