On that day in August
I received an august visitor.
In her long cloak she came,
Bringing with her a break from monotony.
At the door I met her
Taking with me a smile and a hug.
I had been waiting for her
On my couch. By the window
I had stood staring: out and at the clock.
My watch didn't tell me she was late
But then it had seemed too slow all day
Or maybe I just couldn't wait to see her.
My guest was just a guest,
There really was no history between us.
Why then did it seem like I was expecting a lover?
Really, all we ever shared were kind words and smiles
But now I know longing had always been in her eyes
And I wonder if she had noticed it in mine too.
On that day in August
My guest remained a guest
For all of five half-hours.
Friendlily, she gave me a gift
But the next minute she gave me a kiss
That tasted of feelings beyond platoncy.
My guest came as a guest
With her cloak, gift and one heart
But reluctantly leaving, she went
With her cloak, minus her gift
But with two willing hearts.
Because I kissed her back.
