Watching reflections chased down walkways

As it’s cold and rainy on a day like today

When normally the mood would be ruined

But somehow - the reflection turns up the spirit

A new atmosphere to shine in, when she

Is spotted, glowing in city glass

And making the rain less abysmal.

 

In others she is cliche, occupying

The window seat in the most niche cafe

Because it would only be hers, a chance

At ownership of her own moments 

Writing poetry about herself because

She thought someone ought to love her so.

 

Listening to the sad echoes of those

Who seem to understand the feeling of being

Perpetually lonely despite the overcapacity

Of the city. She awaits a stranger’s taste

To tell her they have fallen for every

Aspect of her lovely face, how they would

Regret every step without at least a word. 

 

The next day she returns to the 9 to 5.

And maybe a double the next day

Just to keep every bill at bay, she

Suffers in eternal retail, earning praise

For the effort, but only pay in mind.

She falls back on her friends, needing

Their support in times like these.

 

Though to us strangers, she is much more

More fed, more bed, less wedded, but to us

All of the potential to be better, a dream

Roses in ochre, her loveliness without bound.

We like to see her lonely, hoping she’ll think

That maybe these nobodies would love her too.