I walked through avenues
Finding a quiet place
As the weather disappointed
Rain gets me down sometimes.

And somewhere, you sat all alone
Coffee and ash trays and months old issues
Of the New York Times.
New York City, the mess you were hopelessly in love with.

I dropped loose change
You helped me pick up every coin
And I was taken by surprise.
I was wise,
Wise enough to know not to speak to strangers
But I couldn’t help and dive
Into the thrill of your danger.

All it took was a single glance
You reeled me in, and then there I was
Seated in front of you, my coffee becoming cold
As I listened to your strange, revolutionary thoughts

And I was young, devil-may-care
You were charming, disillusioned.
But the pieces of the puzzle of you and me
Slowly turned out to fit together
Once the hours passed and we watched the sun set for the first time.

Then this went on for days, an unspoken agreement
Like a connivance between secret lovers.
Each day we sat in that same, dim corner
You showed me your little journal, photos
Of the foreign lands you once wandered,
Even taught me I could dream big things for myself.

And again and again, we watched the clouds move and the stars swirl
Through foggy glass windows.
We never left that dying coffee shop
Because you and I lit it up
With the way we were so curious, so eager
To listen to each other.

Leaves turned golden, snowstorms came, and flowers bloomed
Yet there we spoke, on and on
Until we unmasked each other,
Painfully honest. Truthfully beautiful.

Darling, does anyone ever tell you how lovely you are?

Then one day, I came in a summer dress
The cafe seemed darker than ever
And I was left with the ghost of you
Hunched over your cup of coffee,
Waiting for me so you could tell your stories.

A teller of tales gone astray. A lonely spectator.

And now, you are but a story too.
The most beautiful kind.
Would you send me a post card sometime?