time passed. i walked on that grass
seven years ago, still hear the bells
of the chapel ringing, my skin tingling
with anticipation for the first time
when he lifted his glass, rosy-cheeked nine of cups,
his champagne toast was the sweet poison
of romeo and juliet's suicide
and her wild eyes tamed on him, ten of cups,
rainbow overhead, the nectar most only taste once
and lose and miss all their lives
outside the rain pitters and patters
on my uncovered head. the bells toll
their final song and my time has come
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