In the doorway of the cafe
Shaded from the heat of the summer sun.
His chin hunched upon his stick,
He sits and waits
And he looks,
Watching beautiful young couples passing by,
Arm in arm,
In suits, and loose ties, shirts grimed with sweat
And tiny patterned summer dresses,
Slung over beautifully curved frames.
He smiles a wry smile,
Because it’s their turn, he mutters
It’s their turn.
But still he waits,
And at times he believes he sees her,
Untouched by the years
Without age, (because age is a memory,
And memories do not age)
Arm in arm
With a lover,
Who could have been him,
Many years ago.
He knows she is gone,
Living still,
But her life moved on,
Maybe fifty years ago,
And much has passed
In that time
(but her kiss
still lingers.)
And though he knows
He will never hold her again,
Though he knows,
She will never look him up and call,
Still he wonders,
If she ever thinks of him,
(still) he wonders
If she ever sits and waits.
2014.