I never wanted to say it, 
forever, I'd like to delay it, 
that painful word, 
gloom colored, 
not only by sounds and tone, 
but also nostalgia's drone, 
because, after I do, 
you'll say it, too, 
then walk away 
on this last day. 
I know I'll see your face, 
in every quiet place, 
and, when I hear a song of love, 
you'll be all I'm thinking of. 
For a long while 
I don't think I'll smile, 
and life will be a hell, 
because we must say farewell. 

May 29, 1985