Ficlets

On The Morrow

My soul, it wails in great sorrow,
but then I recall that on the morrow,
I shall not be in such great despair,
for the hopes that you will be in company there.
My heart sings for thee my love,
and oh as pure as a snow white glove,
our love will be,
striking their minds with great envy.

We shall be the chorus, the main event!
Our smiles to everyone shall be lent.
But now I remember, oh now I moan,
you will be out, while I supress a groan.
Yes you’ll be gone, out of town,
and I shall be there, sporting a frown.
Yes a frown, what else I say,
a frown just like I’m wearing today.
And now a frown tomorrow too,
for I shall not be spending it with you.

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