Not a whisper is heard <br />nor a shadow be seen. <br />When she gave me the word <br />it was vicious and lean. <br />And she looked so pathetic <br />walking down to the bus, <br />left behind 'the emetic' <br />and the ending of 'us'. <br /> <br />Cardboard suitcase with strap <br />and a small sailor's duffle, <br />pretty Moulin Rouge cap, <br />so determined her shuffle. <br /> <br />No, she never did turn, <br />couldn't bear to remember. <br />Oh, that women would learn <br />that it's cold in December! <br /> <br />Then the bus driver honked, <br />so that chapter was closed. <br />Now the lift door had clunked.... <br />there she came, snivel-nosed. <br />'Need to talk about this', <br />as she dropped her small case, <br />'come and give us a kiss, <br />with your sorry old face.' <br /> <br />And that night it was me, <br />with my suitcase in hand, <br />as I left to be free <br />in a far away land.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-end-5/
