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 . . .
him on dreary days
low cloud scape
umbrella shielding him from
my adoring gaze
blind to me
skitters against rain
whose eyes glow with sparks of gold
seeing not my love
shall stop him
push up, over bridge of sighs
clinging as he goes
photo: Glenn Hunt
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.