Goodnight, goodnight #964 (a poem)

One year later and one month later.

Goodnight, goodnight
three hundred sixty-five
and thirty-one days on

You left without a word
(at least, the kind I’d recognize)
and sleep even now

There weren’t many words
to the conversation
by the time the end arrived

We said it all between the lines
without questioning

There was no need for questioning

Goodnight, goodnight
I’m going to bed

I’ve got a lot to do in the morning
without question

(24 September 2019)



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