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Couldn't Possibly
One more time
One last time
Said She

Morning hours now
Dawn light sheds it's tale
On these white bed sheets

A cool glass of water
Sits on the bedside table
Moisture condensing on the side of the glass

Friday night's bouquet sits alone
With nothing left to love
Not even a voice or tear

Tulips of orange and yellow
The scent capturing a moment
No longer here today, yesterday

A warm breeze enters the room
Lifting up the love note from the linens
Making it swirl around in the room

Can you find it?
Can you please find it?

 2001 David Greg Harth