Michael Edwards

MORE THAN ONE ONE LINER

 

 

MORE THAN ONE ONE-LINER

 

 

She closed the door in the house of sorrowful dreams.

 

The candle lit; they drank the wine.

 

Her tears were fresh and borne of hope like rain that falls in April.

 

His appetite would only stretch to food he could digest.

 

On moon-white nights she raised her glass and savoured faery wine.

 

Strangers on darkened streets are never friends.