coffee

to M.L.

I met you beneath the sky of 1999,
which seemed to dissolve
into the depths of your blue eyes.
Or was it only me who saw it that way?

Remember that small cafe on the corner?
It had a second floor
where, for some reason, no one ever went—
our hidden sanctuary.
We’d grab whatever coffee caught our eye,
hurry up the narrow stairs with restless hearts,
and barely set the cups down
before our lips would meet in lingering kisses.
The coffee would grow cold,
time would slip away,
but we were wrapped in our own world.

Then we’d dash to the office,
and though it was just down the street,
we were always hopelessly late.
I’d usually slip in first;
you’d follow a few moments later,
so as not to arouse suspicion.
But it was always painfully obvious.
I’ve never been good at concealing myself,
and even now, I still can’t disguise it.
My feelings remain as transparent as ever,
betraying me with every glance and gesture.

Remember that elderly woman who told us recently
how beautiful we looked together,
even though we were just walking
side by side and talking?
I didn’t grasp how she figured it out
back then.
Now it’s clear.


Русская версия:
http://stihi.ru/2024/08/15/6208