By Saoirse Pira
It’s what they always say
about that least expecting;
when my suitcase is packed
and that ticket burns a hole—
It’s the edge of goodbye
and it’s you, then it’s me
throwing lemons back at life.
Anyway, farewell is tired
so let’s pretend beginning:
Say a prayer to Saint Anthony
take my luck and lose it,
lay it all out there for me.
It’s thin skin, I’m easy tender—
when it finds me, I’ll be kind
and a love that’s not my love
is playing gentle on my mind.
Featured Image – Toby Dossett