#friendshi9
Twas the month of giving mourned.
the scent of ale seeped from my pores.
I'll never forget the dreadful day,
I watched my comet fly away.
Now the scent of ale scorned,
days of lights and giving mourned.
Tis now burried beneath the clay,
the brightest comet burned away.
Days of solitude then engulfed me,
how I missed your scent, your sight.
Twas the month after eleven,
as a gift I gave you heaven.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC