by Niel Donnelly
Some tailored, haircut neat,
most unkempt, forward bent,
on the beach or on the street.
Ah, those letters never sent….
*
You leaned across the table
with comfort words to me,
a day you made me able
to cross my i’s and dot a t.
*
In the bus, young girls stand
and offer up a well-worn seat,
a silent smile, a raised hand,
calm solace to the weary feet.
*
Had been a fleeting notion,
too early for the train.
That day, outside the station,
you walked past me in the rain.
*
Oh hello, my good friend,
you said you’d thought of me.
I, too stale to be your boyfriend,
and what I’d hoped we’d be.
*
I wash my hands, then error,
as I look up to see,
that old man in the mirror
staring down at me.
