Promised Hours

why is it
that only upon leaving
do you voice
lament

fleeting amid
sentiments
and sudden
things to do

promised hours
perish
in a flash
of wistful
alley light

scarce
your words
remain
as token trials of hope
since lost

hanging in denial
are faded smiles
and fusty
mothballed coats

in the closet
strung like latent
trysts
listless
and long forgotten