At dawn
at dawn in the fleeting moment of orange and red
he remembers her as she used to be back then
as the curtains opened, her smile a breakfast of love
and the sound of the milk van on its daily round
he could see her eyes, wide and full of life
now as they part, her strolling behind the chair
he on the other side of the road locked in shyness
he hoped, and he bit his tongue, she would disappear
now that she has left him in both body and mind
he sees the sun rise, and knows what it is this
day, one of reflection, of forgetting he was there.
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