What I Will Miss

Won’t you say what it is you’ll miss,

She whispers and awaits my list,

Before leaving me with one last kiss,

‘Neath the Milky Way’s opalescence.

She drives her ol’ Chevy away,

Headlights leading to a new day,

Sad I had not one word to say

Or a way to express my love.

Please forgive my disordered mind

And don’t think me mean or unkind;

I am just lost in the moonshine,

Wishing I had another chance

To tell you all the things I fear

When your taillights disappear

In the far valley’s village square.

But I would sure like you to know

It’s your scent and your presence,

Your vast knowledge and your sense

Your being and your very essence,

And your beauty I’ll sorely miss.

Author’s note: Ok, so sometimes I like my poetry and sometimes I don’t. This one I don’t like too much. An example of one I like is The Rightest Wrong One . I wanted to try and write in the style of  Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening  by Robert Frost, a simple poem of subtle depth and beauty. Each line consists of 8 syllables and has an aaba, ccdc, etc rhyme scheme ending in a repeating phrase couplet. I think it’s exquisite. I managed the 8 syllables per line, an aaab, cccd etc rhyme scheme, but while the poem is certainly simple, it has no depth at all.

The woman I was seeing often asked me, “What do you miss?” when I’d tell her I was longing for her. One day I answered her by saying  I missed her scent and sense, her essence and presence, her being and beauty. I liked that answer. It sounded poetic to me and so I tried to use the sentiment here, but I fell short in the execution. Excuse me.

#middleageddating #lastfirstkiss #love #aging #autobiography #memories #writing #nyc #bergencounty #nnj #biography #covid19 #coronavirus #rutgers

#poetry

 

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