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| Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels |
I’m a man with no job.
I look down and away,
I’m not the man I want to be,
For this woman.
I can’t let her see me, like this.
I don’t even know her name
Ashamed to ask, when reminded of who I am.
I call her Beauty and Woman of my Dreams,
When I’m scraping counting change for a cup of black
Confidence, every morning at this coffee house
Just to see her walk in,
Just look at her,
Look at her dress,
She looks so pretty in it.
I don’t think she’s ever looked my way, anyways.
I often think about what I would say,
Daydreaming staring at this blank wall of empty space,
I can’t even decorate it with thoughts
Of having her in my life, with empty pockets.
She has it going on, and on, and on, and on,
Arriving like royalty, every morning
Same time, on time, and she leaves with her cup of black
Confidence that she wears so well.
Another poem to read: Fashion Queen
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