Ten to Eight, just too late

My watch reads ten to eight;
Just ten minutes until
This poor lover will stand in the
Cold and rain,
Waiting in vain for his love…

In my hand
The words smudged by ink-
Or tears?
Pieces of this stranger’a heart
Scattered on the page
In such a hasty hand

Yet his hopes were crushed-
Not by his love-
But by fate,
Or is it destiny?
The cruel gods pushed his letter,
To the rain soaked pavement,
Only to be read by me;
Simply a stranger, whom it does not belong to .

Writing101 challenge


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