The Moment

June evening

Phoenix

As she was leaving 

I was arriving at the Havana Café.

She was tall, in her early fifties,

wearing a white cotton dress.

It was the stuff of sudden connection,

some would say love at first sight.

Time slowed down.

Her dazzling, hazel eyes settled on mine 

like hands reaching out to caress a tired face,

reminiscent of a time when we might have known 

each other before our creations.

She was lovely, nearly angelic, 

stepping lightly across the dusky parking lot,

turning, a backward glance, a subtle smile,

before disappearing into a waiting Volvo,

leaving behind a trace of her timeless, 

luminous fragrance. A deep sigh.

My heart beat a little faster.

The hostess seated me. 

With a friendly pat on my shoulder

she said, 

Down boy.

From: Memories Of Things Left Behind

Unpub. MS p. 29