Leaving

A triolet in unorthodox iambic pentameter for the NaPoWriMo prompt. It’s a while since I wrote a triolet.

Leaving

Night’s passing, but bright morning won’t restore
the path the stars took, where the river flows,
it follows you beyond the tight closed door.
Night’s passing, but bright morning won’t restore
what you took with you, all we had before
the dark fell, and no wishing slows
night’s passing. But bright morning won’t restore
the path. The stars took where the river flows.