V of Cups

All is not lost.
Two cups still stand.
Maybe – like the Two of Cups –
they are the two of you,
and all the others foolishness
like last night’s drinks,
like when you find yourself the following morning
in bed beside an unknown face, unknown hair.

All is not lost.
For the two of you,
hand in hand,
or for you alone if need be,
there remains the bridge that leads
across the river to another chance
somewhere, in some other land.

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