Sage

She stepped into the barroom, I was sipping on my milk.

One of us in the wrong place, her voice like faded silk.

She said, ” I’m pretty sure I know you.” I said, “Yes your name is Sage.”

“I knew you when I was younger, when red hair was all the rage.”

She smiled but looked distant, no clear details to recall.

I left her on that barstool, not going back and that is all.

Dennis Mantin

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