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.