ruffling through the cedar
she plucked the cigar from her palms
and into the pocket of his plaid button-up

it was in these moments that we steered away
from our harsh reality

habituated within the confines of woe
accompanied yet felt lonesome,
the mere must sets forth tomorrow,
my memorandum is no hokum.

there was more than meets the eye,
but any has felt, not just I,
dispatches of melancholy comply,
for must I say goodbye
-- for now...

seek wholesome where it was borne,
restoration is the new.
nay mourn, nor fret, nor pout
and shall come back, subdue.