Two-Fifteen
TWO-FIFTEEN
The chiming clock announces two-fifteen.
Three tortured hours I’ve played it in my head,
Recalling every moment of the scene,
Remembering the bitter words we said.
‘Til, at the end you said you needed air
And slammed the door and ran into the night.
While, stubbornly, I thought I didn’t care;
You’d soon come back conceding I was right.
It’s rained since twelve and you’ve been gone too long.
You’ll catch your death and I’m the one to blame.
I need you here to tell you I was wrong.
I need to hear you whispering my name.
At last, you’re there, rain mingling with tears,
Safe in my arms: I kiss away your fears
25th November 2018
Copyright © Bryn Strudwick | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment