by Stephen Gold

“[New Zealand] Airport sets three-minute limit on hugs”
—The Times

The hour has come to part, dear,
And bid our last goodbye.
Sweet longing fills my heart, dear.
Time flies, and so must I.

Alas, we must be chaste, dear,
Though kisses are divine,
Or else we will be chased, dear,
For holding up the line.

As deep emotion swells, dear,
We drain the bitter cup,
Just as some killjoy yells, dear,
Now move along! Time’s up!