I sing songs about this day
During my long trek
Down hill to the office
Tuesday Morning,
Which is never sweet,
Seated at a table
Where she no longer sits,
Her lingering spirit there
I feel but cannot see
slipping Tuesday Afternoon,
a Moody Blues tune
for the mood I feel
the memory of her hateful stare
long vanquished
morphed into something sweeter
the sweetness of dying flowers
the haze of what might have been,
could never been,
never was,
pined over,
like a dull pain missed,
going home to Rolling Stones ,
Good Bye Ruby Tuesday,
The girl who cashed in her dreams
Before they slipped away,
Leaving the faint scent
Lingering in me
With each step I take,
And the vague ghostly memory
Seated at the table,
Or looking out the window
all gone, yet not gone.
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