Last of Our Sweet Tea

A free(ish) verse poem

Photo by Christian Lue on Unsplash

And so it ends.
Just as all things do.
Life. Love. Smiles. Seasons.

Love. Then. Now. Love.
Days. Nights. Love.
Joys sunset into twilight.

And yet regardless
of why love ends,
whatever reasons,

it’s always too soon.
Like June’s warm end.
Or stroke of midnight.

Last of our sweet-tea.
Or ice cream. Kisses.
Summer blackouts

on balconies, sharing
sushi, post-afterglow
— what kind? Well,

spicy tuna rolls, of course!
When light returns,
worry sprouts

with ravenous urges
to consume — that’s
where we find hell.

Spreading our wings wide,
rising in warmth,
hoping love resides,

held aloft on
June trade winds, veering
towards December splat,