Friday, June 30, 2006

The day that I got over you
The sun was gold, the sky was blue.
I went to Woodleigh, went by train.
What fate, or sense, had tried in vain
to say so many times before
I heard at last. At last I saw.

What sense, or fate, had tried to say
Was that a stunning summer's day
And all life's other little treats--
kir royales, sports cars (leather seats)--
Could never be enhanced by you.
You are not good. You are not true.

You are not brave. You are not sound.
Outside the pub I look around.
Your absence gave the village scene
That perfect glow. It might have been
Paradise, or the South of France.
For giving you a second chance

Fate could have scolded me with sleet,
Dark grumbling skies. Instead, a treat
Your joyless hand could not describe.
No chance. This shining day's a bribe
I'm way past ready to accept.
Briefly I missed your rude, inept,

Changeable, narcissistic form.
Then I cheered up. It was so warm,
The sun so bright, the sky so clear
The day I made you disappear:
Today, the twenty-eight of June
Have a nice life and afternoon.

-by sophie hannah

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