what almost was

there were those nights
we sat in your alcove
drinking wine drinking tea
eating watermelon apple slices
nibbling on Italian cookies cake
after a late show
at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema
talking of books
we were reading
of the upcoming season
at Carnegie Hall
of an aria
sung by Renée Fleming
there was the food
you packed for me
to take home
and that sadness lingering
as I left
of what almost was
and never would be
again

9 thoughts on “what almost was

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