I sat under the blue gazebo,
Just beside our blue colored swimming pool,
Busy scheming through Atomic Habits,
My friends busy talking about their changing lives,
The swimmers competing from the deep to shallow end and back,
The five o'clock breeze cold from the dull weather,
Occasionally peeping through the brim of the pages,
For your approaching figure on the joint bridge,
Beautifully tall and slim and masculine,
Slowly, with each peep, came disappointment,
Until my friends were done talking,
Until the swimming coach kicked everyone out of the swimming pool,
Until I was on the last page of the book,
Then you called to ask where I really was,
Perhaps, in my head,
Aligning fantasies of us when we would be together.
N.M
