It began with a moan.

Not the type

You’d hear from

Someone all alone.

It wasn’t from pleasure, that was clear.

But I heard it again

And knew

That the source must be near.

I walked the top floor

And found them

Slumped in the dark,

Across from the door.

A couple, tangled and sad,

Whispering stories

Of times gone by,

Before the world went mad.

© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

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