Pull back
We had a swell
Time
Touched by a promise
We believed
In
Yet fell
Upon our backs
And waited
Push back
The low hanging
Fruit
Was picked last night
And the morning blue sky
Is now gray and dark
Peeping
Through the
Hanging
Old
Curtains
Hold still
Till the coffee percolates
And drips
With caprice
And with desire
In the unwashed cup
Left on the bed stand
Standing
Alone
And then
Recall a name
A place
A time
When face covering
Was a fantasy
To unveil
Yet another
Promise
To believe
In
March 28, 2021
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021
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