Sitting in his armchair
Comforted by the thick woollen sweater
4:15, the clock shows
Sipping on his bittersweet coffee
He reads the same book for the tenth time.
Out of the window
He glances,
As if someone there awaits
Like always
A sweet face of a lady
Smiles at him
Into a million fireworks
His heart explodes
He laughs at himself
When the face disappears
Everyday repeats itself
same place, same coffee, same book
If only she lived,
Things would've felt a little less robotic