Day 83

Memory is the scribe of the soul - Aristotle

I see you there,
In a wooden chair.
Staring at a computer screen,
Such a sight to be seen.

7-Eleven, black metal table,
Whiskey and coke, black label.
Card games and insult,
Winning, your only welcome result.

Teammates at war,
A red nosed birdie ready to soar.
Determination and focus, musts to win,
Loses pile up, too much flirting and skin.

Classes and trips out of town,
Uninterested acts, but not backing down.
A partner in laughs and all that sing,
Curious eyes, knowing not yet what they will bring.

A pool hall by the river,
Dancing and drinking, time to deliver.
We sneak outside, quiet and brave,
Satisfying that which we had craved.

A final day to see your beautiful face,
Time now becomes a serious race.
We tempt on elevators, stairs and rooftops,
By the end of the night we just can't stop.

I see you standing at Double before I will go,
I don't know which cards I should show.
I settle for a gentle hug and a sad goodbye,
Thinking of what ifs and what they imply.