This could be like any other day
The desolate drawing room waits;
Your gracious presence,
With an abortive reluctance
In between ‘May' and ‘May not'
‘Could' sprawls a gleam of hope.
Every article or artifact around
Moan the Melody of melancholy
As the delay lingers or stretches beyond.
As usual like the day before
Monday, April 8, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: love