Something Like

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.

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