Taking a prompt.
Not going along with the tide.
All we have done is gotten tangled up on the inside.
Wrapping a wound.
Hot afternoons.
Not going along with the tonic and tune.
Fleeting a glimpse.
All that we missed.
What are we now but a forgotten miss.
Taking a prompt.
Not going along for the ride.
All we have done was getting locked up and tight.
Wrapping a wound.
Memories of June.
Now all that’s left are unspoken words and tunes.
Wrapping a wound.
A canvas and a spoon.
Not getting along with the scent of perfume.
©9/5/2024 Bruce Clifford
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