His heavy heart wakes before the alarm calls.
But then gets tangled in the covers of anticipation
and he pictures all the possibilities of
mix-and-match words
that he'll say to you today.
So an hour passes.
And then another,
before he finally finds his footing.
He says to himself that today,
today is a day for gray.
But the mirror explains otherwise.
And an hour later,
they settle on the plaid blue button-up.
Hello, old friend.
You've been hiding behind those hangers all year.
But maybe today,
today is the day you bring me luck.
And we can finally say hello together.
He catches the early train to avoid the crowds.
He thinks,
if things go well,
we might not make it home tonight.
He'd find the right words to whisper through the dark.
And not waste a wink away from you.
A chocolate chip scone
and two hot teas, please.
One for now and the other extra hot.
He doesn't want to take a chance on missing you.
Highlights of pages and wooden chairs.
A casual air with rehearsed hellos.
He's ready.
So he waits
and waits.
And hours pass and
pass again.
His face feels the breeze wander each time the door revolves.
And he looks to see if today,
today is the day you find your way.
You'd quietly walk in and your eyes would embrace his.
And in what would seem to be the most modest of moments,
an unassuming smile
then fireworks.
Hello.
What's your name.
Where are you from
and what do you do.
You can call me David.
I'm not from around here
but I'd sure like to go where you're going.
Do you like dogs.
What about kids.
I prefer hardwood floors and a three-car garage.
I like to sleep on the right
and your parents were nice.
Should we set the date.
Run away, says his run-away mind.
He likes to play out the story of his life once you two collide,
smirking at all the picture-perfect memories that he'd make with you.
But the lights are dimming now and the drinks are cold.
He grows weary and the aches of waiting have exhausted his weathered heart.
All he wanted today was to say hello.
But you never showed.
So he puts away his disappointed daydreams.
And packs up his leftover love.
The trains are tired and empty now.
He places his burdens in the seat next to him
and watches while the blurred lights stream by.
He retreats into the labored tunes of today's letdown,
finding comfort in the sorrow,
and a quiet peace in his helplessness.
Today was just another broken promise
that fate loves to play.
Like yesterday
and yesterday's yesterday.
But who knows.
If he can find a way to stir his heavy heart,
maybe tomorrow,
tomorrow will be a day for gray.
And maybe tomorrow,
tomorrow will be the day you find your way.
