The morning chill
came with a thin drizzle -
dipped in tea and
served with tobacco.

Nausea was gulped
down the throat for
breakfast - the back of
palm wiping the mouth.

Trapped in a brown
jacket and your green
eyes, I felt a sudden urge
to ask you to follow me

to a place I had reserved
solely for your arrival which
sometimes smells of coffee
brewing in the morning.

The urge to approach you
was strong, and yet 
I did not, for this morning
the sky shared an intimate

kiss with the clouds and it
began to pour - people routed
indoors and you quickly took
resolved steps, covering

your head with a diary,
the front of which had
a picture of two flowers
nudging each other.

Boys in warm sweaters
and girls in knitted scarfs
carelessly dawdled around 
as I walked back home, alone.