Date: 8/21/2019
By midnight-libra
Stranger dear, I’ve so been thinking. It’d be nice to meet somebody new. And there you are, standing—unblinking, Can’t help but feel you’re thinking too. Sorry, love, I have to go, I’ve got some friends to entertain. I’ll take my drink and more with me, til not more than chance remain. Another day we’ll meet again, But in our souls a question’s aching. Not a doubt, nor even “if”, but most certainly a “when”.