in a greasy spoon
near
the airport where the planes
would rattle
the cups
and saucers
as they lowered
their wheels and landed
on the runway
nearby.
she had
kind eyes
and small hands.
slender in her pink
dress,
black apron,
and running shoes.
i could have married
her on the spot
when she brought out
my waffles and eggs,
then gently refilled
my coffee mug.
setting down
a tin of cream.
strange what we fall in
love with
over and over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment