He sees me from across the bar, he can’t look away
Blond curls falling across his face as he asks me where I’m from
Tells me I’m beautiful in words streaming from a freshwater brook
Oh, the lure of new eyes
I have to leave before I’m swept off my feet.
I walk into the house, you glance my way and smile out of habit
Your gaze going straight through me to the window
And then back to your laptop.
Where is the fresh water here?
Where are the signs of love?
If they are here then I cannot see them.
They have blended into the walls,
The walls of the home they christened all those years ago.