sonnet 1Posted: June 19, 2008
I never looked at her quite like that, until the second I let her go.
The coffee’s aroma filled the air as she exited.
Cars glided past me on the rain-soaked street outside of the window.
A yellow umbrella was left next to her chair unattended.
An opportunity, it seemed.
The air smelled like lightning, thunder cracked its whip.
The storm of the century, but that was a lie, it was deemed.
The yellow umbrella lay prone next to the table, the view outside was a blur.
She was outside, hiding from the rain under a novel, trying to hail a cab.
The coffee grew tepid as I stared at the hazy window; at her.
I ran out into the unceasing rain with the umbrella, on an impulse I could not nab.
A shout of her name, but the taxicab’s door shut with a clack.
I never looked at her quite like that, until the instance she looked back.