6:43

The street cars roared
beneath her open city window.
The morning fog was
thick as syrup.
Making the days start more
dreary than usual.
6:43 a.m.
Where was he?
Where had his head
slept the night before?
Peaking her eyes to the golden sunrise,
she fantasized of a
far away land.
Filled with honest men
and free lattes.
The scattered streets
caught her distant eye
and lonely ear.
Her interest is drawn immediately.
It's been five weeks
since she's seen his
sweet face.
Among the herds
of busy bodies,
the strangers appear
more
and more
appealing.
Her eyes water
and stomach flips
thinking the next
face she comes across
will be his.
She swears if the
next face
isn't his
she won't look.
Ever again.
6:57 a.m.
No him.
Just a river
of salty tears,
now pooled atop
the weathered windowsill.
The street cars roared.
6:43 a.m.
Where was he?