End of The Line

Rubbing mitts together on a cold morning

Awaiting the desert sun with puffs of warm breath

Longing forever without warning

The imminent will come, the past will have left

Rosy cheeks where you waited

Laughing as I ran and barely made it

Youth is as foolish as forever

But that’s how I saw you

On time becomes untimely

As the first of us to arrive will too

Surely be the first to depart

All those times I left you waiting

I regret that with all my heart

© The Sad Owl


It was pointy

The sharpness of a pinprick; needle

For the various mistakes that I –

would often try to mend


The wincing of a forced smile; feeble

For all the time borrowed that I –

will not give back again

I am sadly

Reading letters from then

A present from the past that I –

remember from when we were two people


I still tend to pick up my pen

Writing tender words about you

Every now and then but I –

am what remains unread

© The Sad Owl