All it wanted was to whisper a song into my ears.
All it wanted was to die in my arms, singing.
... and I was busy reaching out for my umbrella,
adjusting my window panes,
securing the bolts!
I would have brewed it one more time
like my strong black coffee
slightly bitter, as fate,
a little grey, as those discarded days.
But this time I would have remembered
to put a dash of sugar,
this time I would have learnt
to sip it at leisure.
If only …….