Tastes of Leaving, a Poem

This quadrille was written for dVerse where we were asked to use the word “sip.” If you’d like to join in, click here.

(c) Sascha Darlington

Tastes of Leaving

Sip of shiraz, bittersweet succulence upon the tongue, yet tastes of packed bags, angry midnight words, of your leaving, muffled footfalls casting shadowy prints in the soft snow powder, splintered crystal, heart in shards, whispered words: Who is she? Frown, no one you know.

Sascha Darlington

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