Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Some Are, Some Aren't 13.

He wrote to me out of the blue.

And it was August.

Blue figuratively, blue physically.

He said – ‘thinking about you today.”

It had been more than two years.

He asked; “how are you?”

Two years ago he hadn’t cared, but who am I to hold a grudge?

So I wrote back.

Wrote –“wow”.

Said I was fine, asked him how he was.

Not a peep.

What was the point?

int (in a sa/sa) 57

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