You left me waiting by Eno’s Portico
near and far from Cafe Rouge.
I knew you’d return soon,
you always returned in those days.
And I watched them kiss tenderly
between spoonfuls of strawberries
and something that could have been cream
but somehow seemed more intimate,
like stirring of unspoken love
on Sunday afternoons.
I remembered then, that day in the park,
walking through light and shade
you by my side and unspoken feelings
awakening, awakening, awakening, inside.
I waited for you there until after sunset,
then finally read your note.