I wrote this when I was in Paris this June.
I forgot to publish it at the time.
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“The longest day of the year”
I heard myself thinking.
“Mid-summer night’s eve”.
As I sat in the darkness drinking
The calvados still not gone;
Not gone yet from Tuesday
From the bottle at the sink
“Or was it left from Jeudi?”
Whichever - no real difference;
Because,
“It won’t last long now”
I heard myself say.
“The bottle or the year”
Seemed to sum the day.
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