The Last Good Bye Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Next time, he said, his face a grin
we'll meet up there, unless you sin
too much. How many did you say
ten thousand miles to Coral Bay?

My days of travelling, they are done
though I would love that Southern sun,
he shook my hand, that was his style
and then we stood, a little while,

pretending that the cloudless sky
was fascinating. Well, good bye!
He said it, turned on silent heels.
I am not sure just how it feels

and have forgotten all about
that moment when a single shout
might have arranged a hug and squeeze
instead I listened to the wheeze
of an asthmatic with his puffer.
I guess they built the oldies tougher.
He's up there, I suppose with God.
Farewell, I guess, you were so odd.