It’s one of those mornings that begins chilly, drowsy, overcast
Now the sun shines with awful brilliance,
Catching people off guard – they aren’t dressed for it
With short skirts matched to long sleeved shirts
And tall boots wanting puddles
Not parched concrete
He laughs,
But so does she.
Her longish blackish hair gleams against her tan
And she’s healthy, in her element.
He stands in a bright green t-shirt, chatting
Easy. Seems to ignore her adoring
Gaze and posturing, her constant balance shifting
Demands complete attention.
Their laughter and conversation do not carry
Through window panes
What will become of their silent exchange?