Migration
My arms outstretched, as
Barren as the branches
You listened in silence
Until I'd had my say then
Turned your head so slightly
Said you, "Had to go away"
And the park gates to be locked
And the lamps teary in the dusk
Once more I begged you stay, but
My words bore the breath of winter and
You'd already flown away.
S. Evans, Exmouth, 2016
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