Two Coffees One Black
The note was limp From the damp
But crisply written
In both content and style
Neatly folded, carefully placed ‘pon
The middle of my pillow
Where it had rested awhile
At times one knows what lies in store
Can see the future
With a bittersweet smile
Two coffees, one black
Gave warmth to cold hands
And when sipped…mine tasted of bile
I sat on the bed
And hung my head
And I think I cried awhile
What we had
Is now part of the past…alas
My heart is broken…to it’s core
Two coffees…one black
Give warmth to cold hands
And I know that what once was
…Is no more..
Copyright © David O'Haolin Whalen | Year Posted 2018
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