1.
Once, back
in the good old days,
all we had were
words. We were full
of them. Yours, mine, theirs.
The words were good to us;
we respected them,
heard them, breathed
them. Lived them.
Then they were gone.
2.
The other day I
foolishly tried
to bring the good words
back,
except none of mine rose up
to meet yours, and none
of yours but one broke
the silence. The brave,
one word - repetitively spoken and
asked by us both; "good?" "good."
"Good?" "good."
3.
Was it the cold that
froze our words, leaving
us with the first syllable of
The Last Word?
4.
Goodbye.
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 8:55 AM UTC
1.
Once, back
in the good old days,
all we had were
words. We were full
of them. Yours, mine, theirs.
The words were good to us;
we respected them,
heard them, breathed
them. Lived them.
Then they were gone.
2.
The other day I
foolishly tried
to bring the good words
back,
except none of mine rose up
to meet yours, and none
of yours but one broke
the silence. The brave,
one word - repetitively spoken and
asked by us both; "good?" "good."
"Good?" "good."
3.
Was it the cold that
froze our words, leaving
us with the first syllable of
The Last Word?
4.
Goodbye.
