parting is just plain sorrow
We exchange everything.
I tell him to call me
as soon as he can
and let me know
all is well.
“When do you leave?” he asks.
“My flight is at noon.”
“Hopefully you’ll sleep.”
“Yeah,” I say, poking him in the side,
“hopefully you will too.”
And then laughter,
helping to fight back the tears.
He kisses me, softly,
like that first time.
“I wish I could be with you,” I tell him.
And the laughter loses
as the tears fall again.
I get my bag and open it.
I hand him my drumsticks.
“Keep them safe for me, okay?”
“You got it.
But I don’t have anything for you.”
I’m about to say it’s fine,
when he holds his finger in the air
and reaches into his pocket.
He hands me the penny.
Our penny.
“To remember our lucky day,” he says.
“I’ll never forget,” I whisper.
“Me neither.”
There is one last kiss.
The longest one yet.
And then he’s gone.