Later…

Day four: Write a late poem.

There I was all caught up in not being late — for this date.

Though it started out great, until conversations into the night of debate, soon got me irate.

Of what was romance, bringing flowers you won’t, going dancing you don’t.

Within the hour, on my face a look of lour.

Knew I had to get up and run.

For chemistry there was none.

Later dude, I’m done.

By Pamelap

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