Her face is a grimace,
Concentrating on coffee, not looking up.
I don’t know her name,
But a lock of hair falls free,
Drifting down from the heavens of a loose ponytail,
Landing oh-so-softly on her delicate cheek.
What I would not give to brush it back into place!
But instead I just take my mocha and walk outside,
One heartbreak heavier.