Angel in the Window
I was walking down the street when I looked across the way. What did I see, but my angel sitting in the window of the local cafe. It wasn’t odd to see her sitting there, but rather what was, is that she was there alone. She would usually be there seen sitting across some strong “hansom” other guy that had her laugh or smile. This time, oh no, she was there alone. What was that she was looking at? A piece of paper on the table? Is that a tear in her eye? What monster could make an angel like her cry? I wanted so badly to walk through those doors and be her hero. I wanted to wrap my arms around her beautiful self and hold her until she cried no more. Sitting there on the curb daydreaming of such, I watched as she picked up the paper, crumbled it up, and before going out the door, she flung it in the trash among the debris of coffee cups and bagels from the day’s haul. She didn’t even cast a glance my way as she walked away. Later that night, I lay there in bed wondering about that moment. Would she have said anything if I’d approached her? Would she see me? Who am I kidding? My angel doesn’t even know my name...
