Rêver de mon amour.

She mixed my coffee in a ceramic pot,

Frothing until the added creamer rose.

Her movements were precisely the same,

And I felt my mind wander in shame.

She held herself with crooked confidence,

The kind I remember falling for.

I hear the static of a radio,

Playing a song we both know.

Her hips glide to the tune

As she pours syrup with a spoon.

My bent fingers tapped the beat,

Her silver eyes fluttered at my seat.

She does not know who I am.

My wedding band long gone

Her fair skin not lived in long.

She fans the steam from off my cup,

And gifts it to me with a smile.

My heart whispers a feeling worthwhile,

Then she sweetly hands me an extra treat.

I did not order this croissant.

And a smile grows,

One of tenderness and mile.

She nods her head and her almond hair swishes,

The scent of honey and oakwood bridges.

She is young and kind and a charming replica

Of the woman, I used to dream of.

But where I am is much too old,

She cannot see what I now know.

For her is who I used to love,

A marriage of such a garden glove--

A few holes and scratchy edges

But used for good, to make beauty grow.

This coffee tastes so sweet.

It brings me to a time before.

When this girl saw me,

And remembered,

I like the extra treat,

And this,

Smooth beat.