Arrival Black

It was dark and the
bus engine already running
I hugged her, with a
feeling of exasperation, wanted
her to look after herself:
I had to go.  I chose to
go, claimed elsewhere.
She waved, I saw her
hand only through the
windscreen before I
ascended the steps.  I never
saw her again.  The world
shifted, the ground
heaved, rent itself, the
land edges groaning as
they buckled and
converged.  Great lava flows
disgorged over all the
terrain.  When it was cold
and the fume had gone,
all was changed, twisted, never
to be reformed.  Today
I was there again.  Regrets.

One Year Round The Sun
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