Walking Down To The Lake

The clock slowly ticks half past eight,
with only a few beers consumed
it’s not nearly enough to forget the night
but enough for us to realize
something here is not quite right.

I gather my things,
grab the leash for the dog
and jet off for a walk
down to the lake,
breaking tension of this dead-end talk.

Stumbling through the path
as the torch shines ahead,
I stop to clutch the nearest tree,
kick aside some rocks and sand
that have gathered ‘neath my feet.

Up ahead is the shore of the lake
where the moon and stars
shone down on us with their light
where we once embraced
for our first kiss and heavy sigh.

How did that kiss
step away from us?
Here by the rising tide
I’ll never forgive
the watchmaker that lied—
     time is not on our side.

4 responses to “Walking Down To The Lake”

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