A. A. Milne and a Fish Bone

I’ll always remember:

Our last kiss, six weeks broken up;
Brick walls, for months at least.

The love that your eyes give away,
and the occasional laugh you can’t hold back.

“Do you think we’ll ever be friends?” I ask.
You reply “I hope so.”

Your everyone else voice
and how it softens after a few minutes.

Your smile, a little sad,
as our sons wave and call out “Bye Daddy.”

The promises on your left arm
and the ones you wrote on my heart.


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