On a park bench,
I observe a light
breeze carry
golden-brown leaves,
layered in swathes,
from maple trees.
My coat and gloves
starved off the chilly air.
What I wanted
What I started
I concluded
I couldn’t finish.
I needed a sign
seated beside me.
Someone with blue eyes.
This month last fall,
I told myself
romance would
beam her beloved glow
upon me,
even as undeserving
as I am.
A woman approached
to sit on the other end
of the bench.
I’d hoped to meet a woman
over brunch, leading to
her bedroom floor.
What I’ve got instead,
a woman with long, red hair
and blue eyes sat next to me,
asking for my name.
(© 2022 AC)
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