Poetry: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary

he slides into
the booth late—
my coffee is cold
the orders brandy
downs it in one gulp

smiling tells her
the joy of getting
together, then stands,
slaps a 20 on the table
“till next time”

“next time”
his five minutes
not worth my time
it is the season
of letting go

1 comment :

  1. Dear Editors Sharma,

    Thank you for publishing my poem in your flourishing journal. I wish you ongoing success.



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