Is It Too Late
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Why such disgust on our last date?
I earned your trust; you made me wait
by piles of rust outside your gate.
Lie in the dust of your own hate,
sigh if you must, ruing your fate.
Spy me nonplussed under such weight
cry in a gust, a stormy spate.
My cause is just - is it too late?
Copyright © John Watt | Year Posted 2020
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