One Last Time

The morning is still quiet before sunrise on a Saturday.

I stand on my porch, and let the cold and quiet wash over me.

I know, not far away, the things I have feared are coming to pass.

I know, on this still morning, loss and death are coming.

The wind is cold, and the dark may hide us for a time.

I speak her name into the dark, one last time, to feel warmth of love.

One last time, to dream of a life, that will never be mine.

2 thoughts on “One Last Time

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