“Yellow Bridge”, that haunting refrain,
Plays softly. Against the glass,
Gently tapping, the winter’s rain
Arrives at last.
Voices hushed. Restaurant lights low.
My smile – you once said it lit my face –
Now has nowhere else to go.
I had made this place my home.
My love – like the glory of the rose –
Bloomed once, then died.
I fear, like you, it will not return.
Love’s death I’ll mourn.
Solitary now, my packed bag
Leans against the chair.
You’re no longer there to speak
But your words remain, ever-circling inside my brain.
My heart is dead. It bleeds yet no blood was shed.
How could it end?
You said you cared yet you declared
You preferred me as your friend.
If it was meant, it would have been so.
I shall cross that “Yellow Bridge” now;
Just reminiscing, then I’ll go.
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