Tell me your secrets tell me a tale of centuries passed where you recall meeting at what we called the wrong time what if maybe years from now I lift my head tilted towards the sound of a barista clearing the table where you then sit where you are only focused on a poodle called Gaillard who is chocolate brown groomed to perfection with a winter coat matching the faux fur wrapped around your neck as winter has fallen no bleakness just crystal skies iced cobbled pavements too cold for the puppy with big brown eyes whimpering for a seat on a warm lap of an owner feeding treats comfort provided by the attentive barista returning from the inside of a busy café serving hot fresh expresso drifting smells across untouched air toward me who orders another chocolat chaud arriving with a macaroon an unmarked napkin to which I write "Tu me manque" standing I walk to her table Gaillard remembering my scent lifts himself to my chest as I lay the note down where the one who'd be gone so long whispered back sweeping her hair to the side, "Tu me manque plus"
simultaneously they say; "I knew I'd meet you again someday..." a smile from both, "in Paris," with a giggle a caress a simple holding of the hand.

© Sia Jane