5 February: Musings

oh what changes + escapes
a single week makes.
A single week.
A single week.
A single shot
of heaven divine in a glass of glennfiddach.
Ach, slán. Slán my dear.
Tonight we will depart well and walk
from the reverberating tracks.
I wish you not to look back.
For I will be watching you walk and I couldn’t bear
you to look.

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