Precisely
on my table
She
left for me a note
Written
in decipherable codes
Of
which I thought was a fable
The
note had got a ‘Dear Kenneth’
Of
which I thought to write was hard
But
she concluded and said I was bad
All
the night we were at the banquet
She
accused me of being a fool
To
think she never saw us
As
we groaned and cursed
On
the balcony at moon’s full
That
was how it ended
A
story I’ve got left
Of
how am now bereft
With
a love that can’t be mended.
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