Dreary Diary, Day One Sixty-four:

Clouds glower more than he, on days such as this. His permanent frown furls his brows above those incredible eyes – one hazel, one green, both streaked with gold.

Handing him a large mocha caramel espresso latte that first time, I gazed deeply into them. Saw cosmos, philosopher’s stone, me. Flash of a moment, then . . . my heart shook the cup.

One morning, he was no more in line, grim grin in waiting.

Always, so intent on being gloomier than the weather, he never looks up or behind. Making me ever invisible even in purple and pink flowered rubber boots carrying my myriad prismatic butterfly umbrella.

One day, I know, his caffeine fast will end. Then, he will seek me out – the barista waiting always with his favourite brew.

The man with the mirror eyes . . .


I follow

him on dreary days

low cloud scape

blackened mood

umbrella shielding him from

my adoring gaze


blind to me

skitters against rain


for stranger

whose eyes glow with sparks of gold

seeing not my love


one morning

dreary diary

shall stop him

caress him

push up, over bridge of sighs

clinging as he goes

photo: Glenn Hunt

(c) Lorraine

Diary entry and shadorma, writing in the raw, for mlmm Saturday Mix – Bastet 22.04.17 

As the song goes, “See you in September.” All the best on your sabbatical.