(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

One Eventually Forgets

It is never too late.
Until it is over.
And when it 'is' over...
It has become too late.

Like the last piece,
Of a delicious cake...
A replication of it,
Will be difficult to replace...
The remembered desire,
Of the same taste.

It is never too late.
Until it is over.
And when it 'is' over...
It has become too late.

The wait and the taste,
Soon begins to fade.
What was thought impossible to miss...
One eventually forgets,
An association with it!

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