His sigh stirred the leaves
and they played near my feet.
Every tremble of the wind
sent my way hints of lemon.
We sat there, next to each other,
in wait for something to happen.
My hair stirred, restless,
and his feet pumped and swayed
In silence, we danced,
came close and drew away.
The space between was quivered
every atom charged with need,
like two ends of a magnet draw near
we feared - the possibilities.
His fists remained on his knee,
my hands held each other,
when the bus came he got up,
and I watched him go quietly.
He turned then, after a beat
and our eyes said the same,
this would have been an inevitable story
and no, there was no need for a name.