poetry by j matthew waters

promise me one thing

it was saturday morning
and you promised we would
pick flowers unless it rained

the rain never came
and neither did you
and I was left rearranging
my hopes inside a brown paper bag

next day the sun shined
like it had never done before
and for a brief moment I believed
this time you would come around

august two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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