A soft silk scarf
adorned with flowers
sat on the steel seat beside.
I wonder where did your story start,
and where will it lead?
Was it a lost love heart
softly sitting in space,
whilst you were gazing
lonely at a star
in the speckled night,
longing for the distance
to become just
a speck of dust in a sandstorm,
The distance from your
eye to your thumb,
as you looked up and on,
at the memory
that star had become.
I look to the right
The night sits
just out of my view,
but I’m too busy
wondering about you...
Were you waiting
for a special moment?
A memory
ready to be written,
a smitten moment of love
as you listen to the
evening song of the city hum.
And when it didn’t happen
did you leave the scarf
like a glass slipper,
for him to find you
wherever you are?
Or did you depart on your journey,
leaving behind a piece of your heart,
so that in time it could be
refilled with hope
from a different star?
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