Osmosis

cropped-paulnewmancontemplation

Sitting on my stool sipping coffee

I hear those inconstant of tapping’s

By persistent drops against the glaze

As cool air chases through the screen

A steady trickle drips on a wooden sill

Condensation obscures the outer scene

Of what may be perceived as a picture

But more importantly- to me, the scent

There’s no misunderstanding its aroma

Or how it can whiplash my attention

My memory caught in a growing torrent

And my body beset in a stalled motion

While lucid yesterday’s start reforming

It was raining, pouring really that night

The local power was out except Pop’s

Just a small diner between two shops

That’s where I met her, as we took turns

Sharing a stool, coffee and drip drying

It seemed conducive right from the start

Small conversation, smiles, lost of time

I watched her lips moves as she spoke

Her words flowed like a fluent quiet river

And her tone was just as moving- freely

Feeling mesmerized I often apologized

As if I was having some trouble hearing

Her eyes were cobalt blue, and fluttery

Perhaps her eyelashes caused my trance

I think it was then, that solidified me- fully

The rain quit, as we exchanged numbers

Just prior to walking her to the doorway

I mentioned I loved the smell of fresh rain

Unexpectedly she answered it was hers too

In fact, it’s her current choice for perfume

I thought she was kidding, her eyes prove not

As they stare back without blinking a wink

Those were the moments love often defines

“falling at first sight” in a plethora of writings

I didn’t know it then; I do now, when it rains

I’m taken back to her, by pattering drops…on glass

 

Poet of the Light © 2018

 

 

2 thoughts on “Osmosis

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