I’m rushing to get to the place we had named
Then stop on the sidewalk: you’re perfectly framed
By the rectangular window of the café
A still from some cinema verité
Just this:
Still life
You’re sitting at the table alone
Frowning at some stupid thing on your phone
Without really looking, you’re trying to pick up
The scone sitting next to your coffee cup
Just this:
Still life
Perfectly frozen, this moment in a picture
The window a frame, you within it
Not quite real, not quite a fiction
A memory, a dream, something infinite
You see me and wave, the spell is then broken
I’m not quite in a dream, not yet awoken
Between two worlds, I can’t quite decide
Then I smile, wave back and go inside
Is this
Still life?
1 comment:
Schoen.
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