Last week, at a cafe near Second Street
I saw how a brisk couple would meet.
I swallowed the penultimate sip, slow -
A story unfolded, one I already know.
She leaned in close, her hair like the sun
her voice belonged to an angel
a beautiful one.
She touched his hand
as if a celestial goddess
coming down one last time...
She smiled heaven upon this earth
and told him -
unknowing,
that she'll love him until the sun burns out,
until the stars go cold,
until the sea falls silent
and winds no longer blow.
His smile accepted it as the single truth
her one and only.
He was quiet
as I once was.
He touched her hand back,
as I had once touched...
in a time when the sun would burn forever
and stars and angels and the wind
would never stop inspiring.
I looked at him, one last time
and finished my drink alone.
At last life made sense to him
with winds slightly overblown.
"No," I wish I could tell him,
I then left. "No, she won't."