Yves is the host of this weeks wordle. Check it out here

Goodbye!

With nylon stockings upon slender legs

She fumbled for keys in her clutch

She was no Playboy on this Valentine’s Day

Even if she’s treated as such.

The helium globes rose high above her

Suspended by only a string

A thin and crinkled cinched up knot

But a thorn would soon pop that thing

And then her wrist no longer tied

A woebegone gift lost to the sky

A pawn he played in his cold game

A stalemate was this guy

©2022 CBialczak Poetry