His shoes slap.

His shoes smack.

Against pavement.

His tie loosened.

His watch fastened.

His hands soft as silk.

Honey brown locks cascade his head.

He walks in London.

Maybe Paris.

Maybe home.

He walks near my home and doesn’t know it.

He dreams as similarly as I do.

Longs as endlessly as I do.

But his confidence never furrows,

His heart never weakens,

And his eyes are seldom sad.

His wardrobe is so simplistic.

His tastes are eccentric.

And he favors something sweet from time to time.

He aspires to be something,

Is loving and compassionate.

He is charming and not forgetful,

Angelic beneath the wings.

Her shoes smack.

Her shoes clack.

Her shoes slap.

Against pavement.

Her scarf snug.

Her trench open.

Her skin as bright as day.

Her head of velvet curls.

She walks in Jersey,

Maybe Manhattan.

Maybe home.

She walks right past him and doesn’t know it.

She dreams as similarly as he does

And longs as endlessly as him.

As endlessly for him.

As endlessly for each other.

Lovers.