Licorice (23/04/17)

I waited for the word to come
And I think it’s come at last;
The word that fits the present time—
Well, to speak it makes me sad.

I cannot say what’s coming next,
I cannot stand what’s passed,
But in the hollow present time
The sweetness makes me sad.

Farewells taste like licorice:
They have a bitter cast,
Though doubtless we will meet again,
The parting makes me sad.

Remember, in your future joy
The sorrows you surpassed.
This bitterness will pass away,
And remember on that coming day
These times that made us, and be glad.

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