I sat by the window watching the people walk by.
The summer breeze blew through the open window, and you
Sat with your one hand rested on your teacup,
The other gripping the book held so closely to your face.
I tried to write but the words refused to come,
And my paper remained bare.
I drank my coffee, and watched you read…
And now that we no longer walk to Bridgehead and spend our days in
the sunlit cafe,
I think back to our days in Westboro,
And it helps me fill my pages with words of love, sadness, despair…
And hope to return one day.
