Saturday, June 25, 2022

It ends (a poem)

She was sixteen,
I was twenty.
Life was good
and she's still pretty.

We parted our ways
but never forgot
how life was back then,
back in the days. 

I still think of us
when I look at our mem'ries
even on the bus,
I enjoy our fantasies

Passengers scream
because I failed to respond















to an upcoming truck
driven by a blonde

I always hoped
we could still be friends
but am afraid
this is where it ends

Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon
I just lost my part time job and am not making ends meet via entertainment because of covid, so a donation (click) is much appreciated:


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